


Klance vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda

by hufflepuffingdemigod, teagica



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Love Simon Fusion, Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blackmail, Coming Out, Eventual Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), How Do I Tag, M/M, Mutual Pining, Outing, Pining, Slow Burn Keith/Lance (Voltron), Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepuffingdemigod/pseuds/hufflepuffingdemigod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/teagica/pseuds/teagica
Summary: Wandering eyes traveled athwart the bland high school classroom; the brightly accented walls plastered with posters, the fluorescent lights shining off the speckled linoleum floors, the shitty plastic chairs with their wobbly legs, the many students absorbed in their own tests, with their wrists flicking every couple seconds to scrabble down a new word or complete a sentence before turning the papers.There was so much to look at, so much for Keith’s sleep-deprived eyes to observe, but what they lingered on the longest was the tall, Cuban boy who sat at his desk, his back hunched over and his colourful sneakers tapping restlessly against the floor.He couldn’t explain it. He never had been able to explain it. But there was always some part of him that was drawn to Lance. Maybe it was the way he laughed: a sweet sentiment that, as of recently, never failed to put butterflies in Keith's stomach. Maybe it was the way he smiled: a big toothy grin that made his whole face light up, something that seemed to make Keith’s heart skip a beat.
Relationships: Acxa/Veronica (Voltron), Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Allura & Lance (Voltron), Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	1. intro

**Author's Note:**

> hey, I'm glad you're here. I hope you enjoy this klance fanfic, it's my first work and collab with my friend (her Wattpad/ao3 is @hufflepuffingdemigod) and a cross of the Simon vs The Homo Sapiens agenda/Love Simon fandom.

_ People are like lighthouses in the dark- you see them in the distance, but their light is so far away it’s like you could never possibly reach them through the haze and the fog.  _

_ It’s like there’s an ocean between people, and the whole point of everything is to find a shore worth swimming to.  _

_ It feels like you're alone, set apart from everyone else, and there’s no way you could ever know if they feel the same loneliness as you.  _

_ It’s strange, the way you can memorize a person’s gestures and yet never know their thoughts, but it feels like everyone knows yours.  _

_ It seems like everyone else is a house with vast rooms and tiny windows that you could never even try to learn their secrets through, and you’re made of nothing but glass. _

_ I feel so exposed, like everyone can see my thoughts and my feelings, even though I know they can’t.  _

_ But how do I really know? How do I know that they can’t see me, if I can’t see them? _

_ I’m torn, between the feeling that they can all see I’m bi, and the feeling that they could never know. _

_ -Blue  _

_ Saturday, August 22th _

There’s something about this post that makes Keith feel compelled to respond. 

His fingers tap the desk as he fights the urge to reply. 

He feels strangely panicked and self-conscious when he reads that part, the part that says that Blue is bisexual. But there’s also this quiet thrum of excitement.

There’s no need to reply, is there? 

It might not even be real, could just be one of his many classmates attempting to troll everyone on the school blog. 

But the longer he sits there pondering about it, the stronger the urge grows. 

The post is so short- a little over five sentences- but it speaks to Keith. And it’s funny, because he doesn't really think of himself as lonely. Not exactly . . .

For the most part, his life is totally normal. 

He has a mom that he actually likes, his dog Kosmo, and he’s got his friends. 

They do everything friends do- drink way too much iced coffee while gorging on carbs, play video games in Pidge’s basement, listen to her talk about her crazy experiments and her theories on dreams, listen to Romelle’s dramatic rants about school gossip while munching on Hunk’s fresh-baked cookies. Laugh at Lance’s ridiculous commentary and stupid stunts. Watch Allura practice for Theatre, and sing karaoke loudly. 

So he’s just like everyone else. 

Except there’s something so familiar about the way Blue described the feeling. Loneliness. It was like he had pulled the ideas from Keith’s head and put them into words.

Because Keith has one huge-ass secret. One that not even his mom or his friends know.

Nobody knows he’s gay. 

And now there’s someone, someone  _ right here, _ on the school Tumblr of all places. 

Someone like Keith.

He just has to get to know them.

Eventually he works up the courage to post the only comment he can think of.

“THIS.” All caps. 

And then he writes his email address. His secret Gmail account . 


	2. 1

His foot was bouncing off the school’s linoleum tile floor as he waited for his friends to find him in the cafeteria. 

They were late, again. 

He started unwrapping his lunch- no point waiting for them. He was usually comfortable being all on his own, even enjoyed it, but right now . . . Right now he wanted the comforting presence of his friends. He wanted to be around them, hear them bickering and laughing. He didn’t even need to join in- he just needed to be surrounded by their easy companionship.

Keith hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

But ever since he’d commented on Blue’s post, on Saturday, he’d felt on edge. It was Friday now. Still no response.

But his friends would come. They always did, even if their arrival was a bit delayed. 

“Keith!” a voice called. 

His head perked up to the sound of his name, his eyes landing on Pidge and Romelle.

“Hey, guys.” Keith smiled, his nerves beginning to simmer down. 

Pidge plopped her lunch tray onto the table. 

“I am so tired of English,” she groaned, shuffling so Romelle could sit beside her. “It’s so boring.” 

Romelle stifled a giggle. “It is absolutely not, the English language is fascinating.” 

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Science is  _ my  _ language,” she retorted. “Anyways, what’s up, dude? You see that post?” 

Keith’s heart rate tweaked again. 

“Uh, which one?”

He figured feigning confusion might be a good idea.

“The bi kid,” Pidge elaborated. “It’s from like a week ago.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith nodded. “I saw it.”

“Who do you think it is?” Romelle asked absent-mindedly, while poking the jello on the edge of her lunch tray with a fork. 

“Who do we think is what?” Allura asked, walking over just in time to catch Romelle’s question. Her eyebrow lifted with curiosity. 

Romelle nudged the spot across from her for Allura to sit in.

“That bisexual person’s post from the blog from the other day. We were gonna exchange theories on who it might be.” 

Keith smiled again as the dark-skinned girl sat beside him, her long, silvery braids flowing down her back. 

Allura was still considered new to the Garrison- she had moved from Britain last spring, after her father had passed away, to live with her Uncle Coran- who happened to be the vice principal. 

“I bet it’s Ryan Kinkade,” she answered without hesitation while pulling out her lunch bag. 

“Why?” Keith blurted out. 

Of all the possible people it could’ve been, Ryan Kinkade hadn’t even crossed his mind once. 

Ryan was certainly a nice guy, don’t get him wrong, but he sincerely hoped that he wasn't the guy whose post Keith replied to. 

“I don’t know, he’s like the only guy on the soccer team who hasn’t gotten a girlfriend yet.” She shrugged. 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Pidge said, her mouth stuffed with fries, fingers furiously typing on her computer keyboard, glasses mirroring the screen. “There’s plenty of soccer guys who haven’t dated anyone yet.”

That phrase made Keith feel self-conscious, knowing he was a part of that statement. 

“S’up, y’all?” Hunk said, his characteristically bright smile plastered across his face as he went for the other seat beside Keith. Hunk’s obnoxious best friend and Keith’s ball-hog of a teammate, Lance, dramatically pulled the chair out for Hunk, bowing with a sweeping wave and a toothy grin. Then he flopped down into the seat next to Allura. Keith was pretty sure Lance was completely in love with her. Like every straight boy in the whole damn Garrison. And the not-straight girls, too. And anyone else who liked girls. 

“Hunk, what’s up?” Keith asked, ignoring Lance. At least the whole friend group was finally here, even if it included Lance. A squad was never complete without the clown. Oddly enough, though, now that Keith thought of it, Lance hadn’t been quite so obnoxious as usual lately- but it was only like the second week of school. He had plenty of time to resume being annoying.

It’d been this for as long as he could remember, the five of them: him, Hunk, Pidge, Romelle, and Lance, with the recent sixth addition of Allura. 

Keith’s discomfort had finally vanished, for now. He usually felt a little better alongside his friends, though he’d never admit it. 

“Oh, dude, I’m great! I totally aced the math quiz this morning!” Hunk pumped his fists as he opened his humongous lunch bag.

“That’s amazing!” Keith grinned earnestly. 

Soon, the lunch table was bustling with joyous exchanges, whether it was through sharing jokes and memes, gossiping about the school blog, or offering the other’s samples of their food, that was their dynamic. Keith listened comfortably, occasionally adding a sardonic remark or needling a friend about something or another. Lance attempted to drag him into several bickering debates, taunting him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively for no particular reason. Keith didn’t engage. Not today. 

This was how he liked it. He was a loner with friends. It didn’t make sense, but there it was. Somehow these four, wonderful people, plus Lance, had seen his surly, lonely persona and decided to drag him into their circle. He’d never understand why they wanted him, but he was happy they did.

“Hunk, did you see the Tumblr?” Romelle asked again. 

Everytime they brought up that stupid post Keith’s heart began to beat faster and his palms started to sweat. 

_ Why am I like this?  _ Keith thought.  _ I didn’t even write the damn post, so why am I so nervous? It’s not like Blue is even going to reply. I didn’t answer with a sentence. Just “THIS.” Blue will probably just brush it off. If they’re even real.  _

“Yeah, why?” Hunk shrugged, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he focused on cutting the lasagna he’d packed. 

“Don’t you wanna talk about it? Guess who it might be?” Romelle pressured. 

“Nah, I’m good,” Hunk replied. 

That was something Keith had always appreciated about Hunk, how he never really wanted to discuss school gossip or drama. 

Keith found it sort of soothing. Ironically, that’s how he and Hunk had become friends. 

Back in grade school, Keith’s anger issues had been off the charts. And when James Griffin teased him, the other boy wound up with a black eye and Hunk, being the kind and generous soul he was, wanted to assure Keith that if he needed a friend, Hunk was always there. He didn’t care about people’s opinions on Keith. He didn’t get involved in that sort of gossipy crap.

On the other hand, Romelle was always one to gossip. That much hadn’t changed. 

One thing Keith found strange was that Lance wasn’t participating. Keith couldn’t remember a time where he hadn’t joined in on Romelle’s gossip sessions. 

For a brief moment Keith wondered if maybe Lance had been the person to post the Tumblr.

But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, it left. Because there was absolutely no way Lance McClain had written that. He was as straight as a ruler, and tragically crushing over Allura. If Keith wasn’t gay, he probably would’ve been too. 

As soon as Hunk had dismissed the subject, the topic was changed and lunch resumed to its usual playful banter. 

But this time Keith was not smiling from the sidelines: he was anxiously refreshing the inbox for the fake email account he had created the previous night, wondering if Blue would even bother to respond. 

“Damn school cell-service,” he muttered under his breath. 

“What was that, Mullet?” Lance asked, a smug grin on his face as he leaned back on his chair. 

Keith rolled his eyes. As much as Lance was a vital part of their dynamic, he didn’t always appreciate his goofy friend’s input, and returned his focus to the phone screen. 

Suddenly, Lance let out a yelp as his chair tumbled backwards, with him toppling onto the floor. 

The table erupted in laughter as the Cuban boy picked himself off the floor, mumbling, “I think I just saw God.”

~X~ 

Keith wasn’t sure why he had chosen to join the drama club. 

Maybe it was because he knew he’d just be in the background, not in the spotlight. Maybe it was because he knew Allura was joining, and wanted to hang out with her more. Maybe it was because the teacher, Keith’s cousin, had been nagging him to try out since Keith’s first year of high school:  _ “Hey! You know I’m the drama teacher at the Garrison! It’s almost like you’ve been avoiding me and my subject on purpose . . .?”  _ Shiro had scoffed, playfully nudging him with an elbow.

Or maybe it was just because Keith needed a hobby, besides riding his motorcycle and collecting fingerless gloves. Whatever the reason, Friday afternoon found him trudging into the auditorium, a blue corded earbud still playing music in his right ear as he glanced around the room. 

Keith had never spent much time in the auditorium, only entering when he absolutely had to- grade nine drama class, or the odd times he had to help Lance find some stray item he’d forgotten about after said classes had ended. 

He eyed the clock on the far end of the room, arriving several minutes early, which would explain the empty theatre that echoed each of his footsteps back to him as he made his way to a fourth row seat. 

With the spare time on his hands, Keith once again went to check his inbox for any sign of Blue. Which, of course, there was none. 

Keith internally scolded himself for expecting a reply, because, let’s face it, why would anyone bother answering his comment? 

Suddenly, a pair of hands gripped tightly around his shoulders, causing him to let out a startled yelp. 

“Lance!” he yelled while the other boy toppled over in hysterics. 

“Man, I got you so good” he chuckled, wiping the corners of his eyes. 

Keith huffed, already knowing that this club was going to be a handful as he stuffed his headphones into his ears, trying to drown out Lance with the sounds of classic rock. 

Slowly, his classmates started trickling into the auditorium, and Keith set aside his earbuds, eyeing who he’d have to work with for the next semester. 

He was relieved he spotted Allura, glad to have another familiar face among the many that he didn’t recognize. But his relief was washed away when he set sights on Lotor. 

That boy was really quite the nuisance. 

Lotor was your typical rich boy, accompanied with a snarky attitude and a trendy wardrobe. 

Keith sighed, caught up in his distaste regarding Lotor, as the class began, and Mr. Shirogane, like all other teachers, gave a brief introduction of himself and an agonizingly long recap of what the course’s expectations were. 

He zoned out. Everything his cousin was saying went through one ear and out the other. 

His foot resumed its rhythm of tapping aggressively against the floor as he glanced at his phone.

***one new email***

And once again that feeling had returned, the same one as the previous night. It was coursing through his veins, begging and pleading for him to check his refreshed feed. 

Keith’s hand immediately skyrocketed, catching most of his classmates' attention and alerting Mr. Shirogane. 

“Yes, Keith?”

“May I go to the washroom?” he asked. 

The teacher sighed as Keith began to scooch his way out of the auditorium, trying to not to disrupt the classmates who were actually attempting to listen to their professor’s lecture. 

The further he got from his seat in the auditorium, the more anticipation he felt waiting beyond the lockscreen of his phone, and soon enough Keith was sprinting down the hallway, racing into the bathroom and locking himself in a stall. 

He leaned against the wall, a wave of excitement caught in his breath as he stared down at the inbox. 

Blue had replied to him. 

~X~ 

FROM:  [ blueataglance728@gmail.com ](mailto:blueataglance728@gmail.com)

TO:  [ rushofadrenaline@gmail.com ](mailto:rushofadrenaline@gmail.com)

DATE: Aug 28 at 1:52 PM

SUBJECT: Re: my poetic tumblr post and your not-so-poetic reply

Hey, [insert your name here]

So, just checkin’, “THIS.” is meant to be a good response, right? Thinking you might need to work on the communication skills, man (woman? Interesting enby individual? idk).

Because, I mean,  _ I _ know I have the heart and soul of a poet, but many people don’t understand my genius. Their loss. To be creative is to be misunderstood. Artists always suffer. All that jazz, pun intended. 

Just wondering, is there a reason you commented there?

Did something, maybe . . . speak to you? ;)

Or did you just give me your email so you could find out who I am and out me to all of the Garrison?

Because if so, yeah, good luck with that. This is a fake email, and I sure as hell ain’t signing with my real name.

Yours truly,

Blue

P.s. In case you’re wondering, I'm a dude.

~X~ 

Keith waited till he got home that evening to reply, but every attempt he made to sit down and give Blue a detailed response was interrupted. 

Whether it was Kosmo begging for a walk the moment Keith barged into the apartment, his mother prodding him to finish his chores and complete homework if he had any, or Pidge asking him to join their Discord for a brief gaming session, Keith kept getting sidetracked and pulled off course.

So when he finally plopped down at his desk and opened up his inbox, his mind totally blanked. 

Despite the fact that he’d read the emails hours ago, he had yet come up with a plausible reply. Honestly, Blue’s email didn’t even sound like it was written by the same Blue who’d written such an eloquent post. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe this was a random person who’d seen Keith’s comment, and decided to mess with him. It didn’t really matter, though, did it? He would stay anonymous. It couldn’t hurt to reply.

For a long time, Keith just sat at his desk, staring at the computer screen while scratching his dog behind the ears, until words finally formed. The words soon formed sentences that evolved into paragraphs. 

Keith let out a satisfied sigh as he briefly scanned through the carefully articulated words he’d written, then clicking send. 

He stood up from his chair, stretching his arms before searching for pajamas. 

Tossing his leggings and hoodie to the floor, he crawled into the comforts of his bed, wearing nothing more than his ugly old sweatpants. 

Kosmo toppled over Keith’s stomach, the dog’s snout resting just above his heart. 

~X~ 

FROM:  [ rushofadrenaline@gmail.com ](mailto:rushofadrenaline@gmail.com)

TO:  [ blueataglance@gmail.com ](mailto:blueataglance@gmail.com)

Date: Aug 29 at 12:04 AM 

Subject: Re: my poetic tumblr post and your not-so-poetic reply 

Dear Blue, 

Are you sure you wrote that post? It’s strangely eloquent- doesn’t sound like your email at all.

On a more serious note, though, I’m just like you. 

For the most part my life is totally, utterly normal. 

I’ve got a mom that I actually like, and I’ve got my dog and my friends. 

We do everything friends do- drink way too much iced-coffee while gorging on carbs, stream video games for hours, and watch bad nineties movies. 

So, for the most part, I’m like everyone else. 

Except I have one huge-ass secret.

I’m gay. 

So, in other words, “THIS” is supposed to be a good response. I guess I’m relating to you, and I guess your post did speak to me. 

I have no real interest in discovering your identity, and I suppose one of us attempting to out the other is pointless- it’s obvious we’re both using fake accounts. Also it would be stupid- why would I do that?

From one queer guy to another, 

Red 

~X~ 

  
  


It was a really subtle conversation.

Keith almost didn’t notice he was being blackmailed.

Almost.

But the fact that Lotor- no matter how casually he was leaning back in his metal folding chair- was talking to Keith was a dead giveaway that this was going to be bad.

“Kogane,” he said. Even the way he said it was vaguely sinister.

Keith glanced up to look at the tall, lean boy sitting across from him backstage. They were at drama practice.

“What?”

Lotor calmly played with the end of his long, bleached hair before answering. Yeah. Somehow he managed to pull off long white hair. Just like Allura did. Except she was prettier.

“I read your emails.”

“What?”

“Earlier. In the library. It wasn’t on purpose, but . . . I’m glad I did.”

Keith stared at him, jaw clenched, mind working furiously. A little over a month had passed since Blue had emailed Keith for the first time. And there was a lot of implicating stuff in the many emails which had been sent back and forth since then.

“What emails?”

“Don’t play dumb, Kogane. You know, I don’t care that you’re gay. It’s alright with me.”

_ Yeah. that’s why you’re mentioning it. To be a goddamn ally. You’ll go to pride parades for me. _

“Because I really need your approval,” Keith spat out.

“So why the fake name?” Lotor asked.

“Well, I guess it was to keep assholes like you from knowing who was writing. That worked out great.”

“Maybe you should’ve been more careful.”

Keith didn’t even know what to say to that. Especially because he knew Lotor was right. 

“But don’t worry. I won’t show anyone.”

Show anyone. Show any-

“You took a screenshot?” Keith hissed as the realization crashed down.

“Well . . .”

“You took a screenshot of my personal emails? What the hell? Why would you-”

Oh.

He really was an idiot.

“So what do you want?” Keith finally asked.

“What makes you think I want anything?” Lotor drawled casually.

Keith scoffed. “Please.”

“Alright. I think we’re in a position to help each other. I have a problem.”

“That’s the understatement of the century. You’ve got a lot of problems.”

Lotor appeared unfazed.

“Allura. You’re friends with her, right?”

“Allura. Yes . . .”

“Well, I like her. She hates my guts. You’re going to fix that.”

It was laughable. “Fix it? I’m not a wizard. You want me to, what? Slip her a magic potion? Putting in a good word sure won’t be enough. A hundred good words wouldn’t make an impact.”

Allura didn’t just hate Lotor’s guts. If a truck hit him, she’d be the one driving it. Keith was just barely tactful enough to avoid saying that. Lotor had Keith’s emails, but, more importantly, he also had Blue’s. 

Keith had be mindful of his actions, because now his impulsive tendencies wouldn’t just affect him.

“I want you to convince her I’m . . . not so bad,” Lotor said thoughtfully, inspecting his long nails.

Keith stared at him, dumbfounded. “You are  _ blackmailing _ me. You’re  _ blackmailing _ me to convince my  _ friend _ you aren’t a bad person. You are a  _ terrible _ person! How the hell am I supposed to do that? You want me to slip  _ you _ a magic potion? One that’ll change  _ your whole personality? _ ”

Lotor grinned. It was a predatory grin. “You’ll think of something, I’m sure. Or else . . .”

Keith rolled his eyes, though he was clenching his fists so hard that his nails dug into the fabric of his black fingerless gloves.

“Paging Lotor,” Mr. Shirogane called from the stage. “Act Two, Scene Three.”

Lotor stood, brushing himself off even though there was nothing to brush.

“By the way, I’m just curious. Who’s Blue?”

“No one. He lives in California.”

Blue didn’t live in California. He lived in Nebraska, and he went to their school. 

He was someone. Keith just didn’t know who.

And maybe Keith didn’t know, and maybe Blue was cocky and overconfident, self-assured, flirtatious, and ridiculous, but he was also insecure, and definitely not ready for anyone to know his sexuality. He hid behind this mask of being a perfect hetero jerk, but really, that was all it was. A mask. A facade. In reality, he was a sweet, insecure, bisexual, and yes, arrogant and obnoxious, dork, who hid his doubts behind that overly-confident swagger.

Although Blue had pretty much said all this, word for word, he really didn’t need to. Keith could tell just by the way he wrote.

So if Lotor thought Keith was selling out Blue, he was crazy.

~X~ 

“Dude!” Lance scoffed at soccer practice that afternoon, as Keith weaved right past him, without even considering passing the ball. 

Keith scowled. He was still furious at Lotor for confronting him, especially at drama practice, of all places, where a real scene could’ve emerged. 

He aggressively kicked the ball into the soccer net as Lance joined his side, huffing and puffing. 

“What is up with you today?” Lance panted, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Nothing,” Keith grumbled.  _ Nothing that’ll concern you _ , he added mentally. 

Despite the fact that he’d been talking to Blue for nearly nine weeks, Keith still couldn’t begin to fathom who the online persona might belong to. 

Sure, he had theories, but there was no way he was going to test them. 

_ “If you never test your theories, what kind of a scientist are you?” _ Pidge had once asked _.  _

_ “I’m not a scientist,”  _ he had replied. 

_ “It’s a metaphor, sometimes you gotta take risks Keith.”  _

“I don’t think it’s nothing” Lance mumbled, leaning down to readjust his shin-guards “You won’t even scrimmage with me today, are you okay?”

Keith really wasn’t in the mood to talk right now, especially to Lance, of all people. 

Now, it was true he and Lance had really come a long way. Before, they couldn’t even be in the same room before a fight broke loose. But they had never really developed a trusting friendship like the one Keith had proclaimed with Pidge and Allura. Instead, their relationship was more of a playful rivalry than genuine companionship. 

“It’s nothing,” Keith repeated, his anger seeping through his voice just the slightest bit. 

He really didn’t want to fight right now, he just wanted to channel his anger into the practice. But if Lance didn’t let it go, Keith was going to lose it. 

“Let’s just finish the drills,” he muttered, tucking away the bangs that didn’t quite make it into his short ponytail. 

Lance sighed but didn’t protest, both of them returning to their clump of teammates at the other end of the field. 

Once he stopped moving, Keith began to shiver in the early October weather. 

He’d never liked the cold- even in the warmer months he chose to wear pants and sweaters- so standing outside, in his soccer uniform, in the chilly breeze, Keith’s skin became prickly with goosebumps and his teeth began to chatter. 

“Are you guys excited for the game against Olkari?” someone asked. 

“Totally pumped,” another guy replied. “Have you seen the cheerleaders at that school?” He finished his sentence with a loud wolf whistle, and Keith cringed. 

“Psh, whatever. I just like playing against them cause they actually have a good snack stand” Lance interjected, joining in on the team’s conversation with ease, something Keith could never manage to do. 

“N-no they don’t,” Keith chattered, crossing his arms against his chest for warmth. “Their sna-acks are d-disgusting.” 

“Next group!” their coach yelled, waving his hand for them to advance before blowing his whistle, a loud, piercing sound. 

“Hey, dude, you cold?” Lance asked him, a gentle expression forming on his face “‘Cause you can totally wear my jacket if you want.” 

Keith rolled his eyes at Lance’s suggestion, but was surprised to find the signature khaki-green sweater being draped over his shoulders. 

“You-you’re serious?” he managed to say, looking up at the taller boy. 

“Uh, yeah?” Lance shrugged with a small grin. “No homo, though,” he laughed, raising his hands as if warding off the thought. 

Keith laughed. It didn’t matter- it wasn’t like he liked Lance, so the no homo thing in relation to Lance didn’t bother him. But still, the mention of anything gay made him a little tense.

Keith pushed away his discomfort as Lance gave him a sly, sideways grin.

“Race you there,” Lance shot, before darting away on his long legs. The cold didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

Keith dashed after him, slipping his arms into the sleeves of Lance’s sweater as he ran.

“Not fair!” he yelled, laughing and gasping.

Lance glanced back, grinning. “Can’t catch up, Mullet?” he called teasingly.

Sprinting after and tackling Lance, knocking him down in a cursing, laughing, tangled pile of long limbs, chased away the piercingly cold wind, filling Keith with warmth.

For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, frozen in time, the sole focus of the universe being brought to them and them only. 

“Get off me, Mullet” Lance said in between giggles, trying to push Keith off his chest. 

Keith nodded, standing up and stretching a hand to his toppled teammate. 

Lance took it, his slim fingers wrapping around Keith’s as he returned to his feet. 

A content grin still remained on his face as they resumed their coach’s drill. Although Keith may not have said what was bothering him, Lance was glad he was able to distract him, even if the distraction was only temporary. 

By the time practice was over, Keith was sweating. He didn’t usually sweat this much. 

He felt guilty that Lance’s jacket definitely would reek of his deodorant, and embarrassment wasn’t another emotion Keith needed to re-experience today. After Lotor’s confrontation, Keith had felt enough embarrassment to last a lifetime. 

Together they strode down the school hall with the rest of their team, returning to the locker rooms to change before calling it a day. 

Keith hated the locker room. He always had. And it wasn’t just because half the showers only shot out ice cold water, or because the bathroom stall door could never fully close. It was the discussions of his teammates that brought him the most discomfort. 

The notorious locker room talk seemed to be despised only by Keith, because all the others chimed in without hesitation. 

“Yo, did anyone see Ezor Cauvgen today? She looked fine as hell.”

“Dude, I know right! Like, damn.” 

“Yeah, I’d totally tap that ass if she wasn’t a fag.”

“Ditto.” 

The air suddenly felt way too hot. Much hotter than the summer the air conditioner broke, and Keith’s mother couldn’t afford to fix it. He’d felt like he’d melt. This was worse.

Keith knew he was the odd one out, whether it was his ambidexterity or his lonely persona, or any other thing, like being the closeted gay kid in the locker room. And he hated every moment of it. 

He knew that if Lotor were to leak his emails, he’d not only be the center of attention, but shunned from the soccer team without a second thought. 

As quickly as possible, Keith stripped off his jersey and got back into his everyday clothes: his black jeans and a red hoodie. He threw Lance’s jacket on over top.

Keith shoved all his belongings into his duffle bag and dashed out the locker room door as if it were his sole priority. He was just crossing the threshold when someone grabbed his arm. 

“Hey! Dude!” Lance scolded “Don’t leave yet, you’re supposed to give me a ride home, remember?”

Shoot. He’d totally forgotten about that. 

“Yeah, ok, whatever, just hurry up please.” Keith hoped the desperation he felt didn’t seep into his voice. However, it must have, because Lance didn’t bother to continue socializing with Ryan Kinkade and Rolo Beezer after he was finished dressing. 

As soon as they stepped out of the locker room, Keith practically ran down the hallway. His day had been absolute shit and he just wanted to go home. 

“Keith, seriously, what is up with you today? Did I do something at practice? Or . . .?” 

Lance trailed off.

Keith glanced back at his sort-of-friend, whose face was twisted with concern. 

“Just stop,” Keith said. “I’m fine, okay? You didn’t do anything, it’s just that- gah, nevermind. It doesn’t matter.” Keith stopped himself. He wasn’t telling anyone about Blue, especially now that Lotor knew. And even if he was going to talk about Blue, Lance was the last person he’d want to discuss him with. 

“So, you like my sweater then?” Lance observed as they started walking towards the school’s rundown parking lot. He’d clearly decided that, while something was definitely wrong with Keith, he wasn’t going to get anywhere if he kept pressing. Keith appreciated that.

He felt like burying his face in the jacket in question, though, when Lance grinned sideways, suggestively, at him. If Lance wanted the jacket back, Keith wasn’t going to refuse him, but he wasn’t sure sweat-soaked and probably smelly was an appropriate form to return it in. 

“Seeing as you’re still wearing it . . .?” Lance snickered, a smirk beginning to form. “It suits you.”

“Sh-shut up,” Keith grumbled. “Do you want a ride home or not?”

Keith’s face was red. But now it was more than the Autumn weather. 


	3. 2

He lay in his bed, stroking Kosmo’s fur while silently cursing at himself for being stupid.

Of all the ways for Lotor to discover Keith’s sexuality, it was because Keith was too careless to log out his account on the library's computer. 

He wasn’t sure what to do. After all, it wasn’t like he had many options. 

The most logical thing to do was follow Lotor’s command because despite knowing he wasn’t straight for years, Keith was still nowhere near comfort when it came to being open about his sexual orientation. And not only that, but there was also Blue to consider. 

_ “These emails, right now they feel like this totally safe place. But I know there’s more to it than that. So I’m sorry, I guess I’m not ready for us to know each other’s identities yet.”  _

The streetlights were glaring off the back wall of his room and the faint sounds of cars rushing past filled his room. Despite it nearly being quarter to twelve, there was never a time where the town’s mainstreet was not busy. 

It had taken years for Keith to admit that the sound was actually quite calming as it became laced with familiarity. But not tonight. 

Tonight, Keith just wanted to disappear. He’d barely spoken to his mother at supper, he’d instantly declined Pidge’s offer for a couple rounds of “Among Us”, and he’d refused to reply to the worried texts from Lance, who still wouldn’t drop the subject of Keith’s earlier hostility. 

He’d stomped up the stairs and flopped right into bed early- 11:00 PM.

All he wanted was to be sucked into a deep slumber and never be awoken. 

But first- he would respond to Blue’s email. After lying awake for a long time, he’d received a message from Blue, and decided to answer it. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone else right now- not Lance, not Pidge, not his mother. No one except Blue.

They’d been talking about how they figured it out. Their sexualities. Blue’s was a little embarrassing, but nowhere near the level of “OH MY GOD, WHAT?” as Keith’s. 

Keith tossed around for a bit, unable to find a comfortable position to type a long message in. He finally settled for resting his head in the crook of his arm, so he had both hands free for writing. He felt bad for waking up his labrador each time he shifted. 

After about 20 minutes, Keith had sent the email.

He lay awake for 5 minutes. 10 minutes. Half an hour passed, and he was no closer to sleeping than he had been before.

He hated himself for what he was about to do, 

Keith slipped out his bed, squinting around his barely lit room for something. 

When he found Lance’s jacket thrown across the floor, he felt a strange wave of relief wash over him. He gently slipped the jacket around his body. The jacket didn’t fit him right. The sleeves were a little too long and the jacket hung far below his waistline, but it was still comfortable nonetheless.

He scampered back under the bedsheets, cosying up next to his dog and flipping the pillow to the cool side. 

There was something about the jacket that made him drowsy. Whether it was the mixed scents of his sweat and Lance’s cologne or the sense of stability he didn’t know he had attached to the jacket, he fell asleep within minutes of wrapping it around his body.

~X~ 

FROM:  [ rushofadrenaline@gmail.com ](mailto:rushofadrenaline@gmail.com)

TO:  [ blueataglance728@gmail.com ](mailto:blueataglance728@gmail.com)

DATE: Oct 17 at 12:06 AM 

SUBJECT: Re: when you knew

Blue, 

That’s a pretty good story, Blue. I mean, middle school is like an endless horror show. Well, maybe not endless, because it ended, but it really burns into your psyche. I don’t care who you are. Puberty is merciless.

I’m curious—have you talked to him at all since then? Do you think he knows you like(d) him?

I don’t actually know when I figured it out. It was a bunch of little things. Um, it’s sort of embarrassing, but I think the moment I figured it out was . . .

I can’t say it. I physically cannot force my thumbs to type the words.

Fine. I hate you for making me do this.

Um, I think my sexual awakening may or may not have been Sokka. 

From Avatar. 

Yeah. It wasn’t even a real fucking person. It was an animated character from a show for seven year olds. I just- I liked his personality. And, yeah, he was cute. Shut up, I can feel you laughing as you read this.

Anyway.

Then in eighth grade, I had a “girlfriend”. It was the type of relationship where you’re “dating” but you don’t ever go anywhere outside of school. And you don’t do anything in school either. I think we held hands. Maybe. Once. 

We went to the eighth-grade dance as a couple, but I spent the whole night with a friend, eating Fritos and spying on people from under the bleachers. And at one point, this random girl walked up to me and told me my girlfriend was waiting in front of the gym. I was supposed to go out there and find her, and I guess we were supposed to make out. In the closed-mouth, middle school way.

So, here’s my proudest moment: I ran and hid like a preschooler in the bathroom. In the stall with the door closed, crouched up on the toilet so my legs wouldn’t show. As if the girls were going to break in and confront me. I am being completely honest when I tell you that I stayed there the entire evening. And then I never spoke to my girlfriend again.

Additionally, it was Valentine’s Day. Because I am that classy. So if I’m being completely honest with myself, I was completely sure at that point. 

Except that was four years ago and I still haven’t told anyone. You know, aside from you. 

Did you know that this is the longest email I have ever written? I’m not joking. You may be the only person who coaxes more than 140 characters out of me. That’s decent, right? Sort of special?

Anyway, I think I’ll sign off here. I’m not going to lie, it’s been a really weird day.

— Red

FROM:  [ blueataglance728@gmail.com ](mailto:blueataglance728@gmail.com)

TO:  [ rushofadrenaline@gmail.com ](mailto:rushofadrenaline@gmail.com)

DATE: Oct 17 at 8:46 PM

SUBJECT: Re: when you knew

Red,

I’m the only one? That’s definitely kind of awesome. I’m really honored, Red. I’ll take a bow now, if you don’t mind. It’s funny, because I don’t really email, either. And I never talk about this stuff with anyone either. Only you.

For what it’s worth, I think it would be incredibly depressing if your actual proudest moment happened in middle school. You can’t possibly imagine how much I hated middle school. Remember the way people would look at you blankly and say, “Um, okaaay,” after you finished talking? Everyone just had to make it so clear that, whatever you were thinking or feeling, you were totally alone. The worst part, of course, was that I did the same thing to other people. It literally makes me nauseated just remembering that.

So, basically, what I’m trying to say is that you should really give yourself a break. We were all little shits then.

To answer your question, I still see and talk to him almost everyday. Watch out, this is gonna be an info-dump. We go to the same school and we share the same friends, but he just doesn’t realize it. He’s a little clueless. It’s really amazing, isn’t it? Someone can trigger your whole sexual identity crisis and not even have a clue they’re doing it. Like, I’m pretty sure he still thinks of me as his annoying, idiotic, loud, obnoxious, ridiculous, dramatic sort-of-friend. 

I mean, that’s how pretty much everyone sees me, so . . . God, I’m so sorry. It’s super annoying when people are all “woe is me, self-pity,” etc, etc, all that crap. 

Anyway, I tried super hard to hide that I liked him. I mean, I think I may have overselled it a little. Um, I made up this whole stupid rivalry, and I’d keep trying to goad him into fights. Because, hey, attention’s attention, right? 

Yeah. 

But, um, I sort of let that go lately. I dunno if he’s noticed at all, but I’ve been less over the top. Less, “I’m gonna fight you because really I’d rather fuck you but I can’t tell you that because I’m too much of a coward to come out as bi, and too scared of rejection and losing you as a sort-of-friend/rival.” Oh my God. I can’t believe I just wrote that. I also can’t believe I’m leaving it in. Um, anyway, I’m also pretty sure he thinks I’m totally in love with this girl friend of ours. I mean, she’s gorgeous, and I used to like her . . . But we went on a couple dates and now we’re just friends. I still flirt with her sometimes, of course, but it’s just a joke. We both know it. I haven’t told her I have a crush on him, though, and we’re pretty close.

If I’m being honest, it might be more than just a crush at this point- not that I’ll ever admit that to him. Or anyone else. 

Besides you. 

So I guess the obvious question is, why haven’t you told anyone? 

— Blue 

FROM:  [ rushofadrenaline@gmail.com ](mailto:rushofadrenaline@gmail.com)

TO:  [ blueataglance728@gmail.com ](mailto:blueataglance728@gmail.com)

DATE: Oct 18 at 11:15 PM

SUBJECT: Re: when you knew

Blue,

God, I know. The dreaded “okaaay.” Always accompanied by arched eyebrows and a judgy grimace. Middle school in a nutshell, I guess.

I have to say, I don’t mind your info-dumps at all. I like talking to you. I don’t think you’re idiotic. Dramatic? Yes. A little ridiculous? Sometimes, but only in a good way. Annoying? Not at all. And I don’t know if you're loud, obviously. But you’re not obnoxious either.

Sounds like you’ve got a pretty big crush, Blue. Before I elaborate on why I haven’t come out to anyone, I want to know. Why haven’t you told her?

Now, here’s why I haven’t told anyone. 

The truth is, I’m not sure, myself. Because deep down, I know my family and friends would be fine with it. My cousin just got married to his husband last spring, I think my mother has had a girlfriend or two, and my friends are just as supportive. 

But it’s me that I’m hung up on. I know I don’t like girls, but coming out seems so permanent, and I want to be sure that this gay thing is forever, you know? That makes no sense. Sorry.

I know you’re probably thinking: “Okaaaaaaay.”

— Red 

FROM:  [ blueataglance728@gmail.com ](mailto:blueataglance728@gmail.com)

TO:  [ rushofadrenaline@gmail.com ](mailto:rushofadrenaline@gmail.com)

DATE: Oct 19 at 8:01 AM

SUBJECT: The obligatory . . .

Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy.

(Eyebrows, judgy grimace, butthole mouth, etc.)  — Blue

P.s. I just haven’t told her because I’m scared. Of losing my friends. Even though I know I won’t. Like you said, coming out is permanent.

~X~ 

October 23rd was on a Friday. And Keith couldn’t wait. 

It wasn’t that it was his birthday. He just wanted to be out of school and away from Lotor. 

Although Lotor was yet to broadcast the screenshots, his generally menacing disposition hadn’t dissolved. He had given Keith a deadline to at least mention him to Allura.

A deadline. A fucking deadline. Who did Lotor think he was? 

Keith wasn’t entirely sure what Lotor wanted him to do, because a good word, as he had already said, surely wouldn’t do the trick. Keith wasn’t certain what Lotor had done to Allura- maybe it was just that he was a condescending jerk- but he knew that she hated him with a burning passion. No matter what, Keith had better come up with something that satisfied Lotor’s sadistic mind soon. 

Or else,

_ Goodbye, Blue. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Red. _

Keith stood around the prop he was painting along with a couple other kids from the chorus, all of them slathering their paint brushes across the wooden surface while they listened to their peers with lead roles rehearse. 

Keith sighed. His head was throbbing, either from the smell of paint or from the loud voices of his classmates practicing their parts. 

“I’m gonna go get a soda, Allura, you want one?” he asked, gazing over at his friend.

Although Allura had scored herself the role of the Artful Dodger, she never declined to help out her fellow cast-members with props. Her kind spirit always was admired. 

“No thanks, Keith.” She smiled, her blue eyes gleaming under the stage spotlights. 

He nodded as he set his brush aside, stuffing his hands into his pockets and making his way out of the auditorium. 

He took his sweet time walking to the vending machine. After all, he wasn’t a major part of prop-building- he’d just been blandly painting the same section of wood, over and over.

Keith pulled out his dollar bill, shoving it into the machine as he dialed the buttons for a ginger-ale. Hopefully that would alleviate the sickness he felt was plaguing his mind. 

“Kogane,” a familiar and unpleasant voice said. 

Keith groaned internally. Couldn't he have five seconds of the school day where Lotor wasn’t distressing him? Was that too much to ask? 

“Yes?” He replied reluctantly, plucking out the soda can that had tumbled into the machine’s deposit. 

“The deadline is approaching,” Lotor said. A simple statement. But it still brought a combination of panic and fury to Keith. He didn’t need an interrogation right now. He needed to chug this ginger-ale and get as far away from the wretched boy as he could, as soon as possible. 

Said wretched boy leaned against the wall, just low enough so he and Keith could be at eye-level. 

“Please do inform me of your plans,” he began “I’d love to know what you have in mind for Allura and me.” 

Keith rolled his eyes. The way Lotor was describing the situation made Keith seem like some kind of matchmaker, instead of the blackmailed, closeted gay guy he really was. 

There was something about the way the Lotor stood there, as if it were a casual interaction. The way he just slouched against the white-washed wall, patiently waiting for Keith’s reply, made Keith slip. 

“The Halloween party,” he blurted out, “You can come to Hunk’s Halloween party with us- my friends. Allura will be there.” 

Lotor must've gotten the answer he was wanted, because a smirk spread across his face. He stood up from his earlier position, now standing nearly a head taller than Keith, and appearing more intimidating than before. 

“Good job, Kogane, good job,” he said, his hand making brief contact with Keith’s shoulder before he disappeared down the hall and back into the auditorium. 

Keith’s stomach was writhing with anger and humiliation.  _ I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself.  _ Not only had he given into Lotor’s blackmail, but he had signed himself up to go to a party. A Halloween party. 

Keith  _ hated  _ parties. Even if it was Hunk’s party, and Hunk was a total cinnamon roll. Because the party would not be cinnamon-roll-ish. It would be a party. And Keith couldn’t quite explain why, but there was something about chugging alcohol, smoking pot, and hooking up that just didn’t appeal to him. Call him crazy. Even before high school he had hated parties. 

He sighed, opening up the ginger-ale as he made his way back to the theatre. His head was still throbbing. 

~X~

The thick scent of cheap acrylic paint doused his hair and clothes, making him cough up a storm as he made his way to the school parking lot, where Lance had asked to meet. 

Keith felt relieved as he stepped out into the chilly, autumn breeze, that replenished his lungs with fresh, cold air which left a puff of fog as he exhaled. 

The trees outside the Garrison were practically naked, all the multi-coloured leaves having fallen in the past week. 

“Keith!” An energetic voice shrilled. 

_ Lance.  _

“Happy birthday to you!” Lance started to sing as he approached Keith, a smug grin taking over his face. 

“Not now,” Keith muttered. He was sick of hearing those words. Even if Lance had a nice voice- he was playing Oliver, in  _ Oliver! the Musical _ , after all. But Keith’s mother had sung Happy Birthday this morning. Shiro and Adam had texted and called him. His friends had already muttered them a billion times. Keith had to restrain himself from thinking that if Blue knew who Keith was, he would say “Happy Birthday!” too. 

“Psh, okay dude,” Lance mumbled, waving it off. “The gang’s over by Allura’s car. We’re gonna give you your present there.” 

Keith opened his mouth to protest. He didn’t need a present. As cheesy as it sounded, their friendship was the best gift they could’ve ever given him. He really wished they wouldn’t spend money on him. He shut his mouth again, not bothering to say that. Why should he make them feel like their efforts weren’t appreciated?

The short walk to the car was awkward. Keith and Lance didn’t have much to talk about besides soccer and how much of a trainwreck the Oliver production is going to be. So they didn’t say anything. Keith heard Lance quietly humming the rest of Happy Birthday under his breath, like he couldn’t let the song go unfinished. Keith grinned despite himself.

Lance looked at him sideways. “What?” he laughed.

Keith shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Alright . . .”

The most interaction they had, besides that, was Lance accidentally elbowing Keith as he tried to readjust the snapback he refused to stop wearing, even in the cold weather. 

“Ow!” Keith mumbled, rubbing his head in the spot Lance had hit. 

“Oh my God, dude, sorry!” he exclaimed “Are you okay?”

Keith brushed it off. It didn’t hurt that bad. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he replied, ruffling his hair. 

As Lance had said, the gang was at Allura’s car waiting for him. Pidge, Allura, Hunk and Romelle, plus him and Lance. 

They all took one glimpse at each other before the dreaded song broke out again. Except this time it was a horribly off tune mess with giggles every couple seconds. But it was sweet. 

“We know you hate when we spend money on you,” Allura started “So your gift is entirely handmade.” She smiled, a huge, loving, affectionate smile. 

Outstretched in her arms was a plain white box with “ **for Keith** ” scrawled across the front in thick black sharpie. 

Keith slowly pulled off the top of the box and examined its contents. Inside there were dozens of cards, birthday compliments, plenty of photographs, and a couple of Lance’s drawings. 

Keith felt his eyes watering up. He was so grateful for them. He was going to treasure this gift forever. 

“I love it,” he whispered, knowing that they could see the smile he so rarely showed. “Thank you so much.” 

Everyone chimed in with a series of “no problem”s, “you’re welcome”s, and another round of Happy Birthday before Romelle suggested going out to the Vrepit Sal’s as a celebration. 

“I can go,” Pidge started “But I’ll need someone to give me an early ride home. I have to help Matt with one of his robotic projects.” Matt was Pidge’s older brother. He was on the drama team, as Assistant Director to Mr. Shirogane. Keith hadn’t seen much of him at rehearsal yet, or maybe he just hadn’t been paying much attention, occupied as he was with other things. Lotor things. Which he wasn’t going to think about right now.

Allura nodded. “Romelle and I could take you,” she offered. “You don’t mind leaving early, do you?” she questioned, turning to the blonde girl, who shook her head in reply. 

“I guess I’ll need a ride as well,” Keith muttered, remembering how Shiro and Adam had insisted on driving him to school, instead of allowing him to take his motorcycle. 

“I gotchu, Mullet,” Lance said, nudging him with an elbow and presenting a smug grin. 

“Well, now that the rides are sorted out, I’ll see you guys there!” Hunk called, waving before entering, yes, his minivan. 

Lance’s pickup truck was a mess, Keith noticed upon primary inspection. There were candy wrappers poking out of every seat pocket, something on the floor was sticking to his shoes, and there was even a little hula girl on the dashboard. 

Suddenly, Lance started laughing.

“What’s funny?” Keith asked in a bit of a harsh tone, thinking Lance was laughing at him. 

“Pidge,” Lance giggled, pointing out of the passenger’s window, towards the backseat of Allura’s jeep. 

As soon as Keith saw what Lance meant, he cracked up as well. Pidge was being forced into the backseat of Allura’s car, and a menacing scowl had plastered across her face, making her look like an angry toddler. 

Once their laughter died down, Lance stuck the keys in the ignition and waited for the engine to roar to life. 

“You know you can toss your stuff into the back, right?” he said, eyeing the backpack and shoebox in Keith’s lap. Keith shrugged, but did as Lance said, their stuff mixing together in the mess of miscellaneous objects. 

The drive there was similar to their walk, mostly silent with minimal interactions, other than Lance complaining about how the radio stations only play the same damn songs everyday. And then Keith was hit with a new revelation. 

_ Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. Holy fucking shit.  _

“ _ Anyway, I tried super hard to hide that I liked him. I mean, I think I may have overselled it a little. Um, I made up this whole stupid rivalry, and I’d keep trying to goad him into fights. Because, hey, attention’s attention, right? _

_ But, um, I sort of let that go lately. I dunno if he’s noticed at all, but I’ve been less over the top. Less, “I’m gonna fight you because really I’d rather fuck you but I can’t tell you that because I’m too much of a coward to come out as bi, and too scared of rejection and losing you as a sort-of-friend/rival.” _

All of Keith’s suspicions of Blue’s identity were put on pause because the rivalry part sounded an awful lot like him and Lance. A little too much like him and Lance. Even the part about Blue being more chill lately was a lot like them. Hadn’t Keith noticed that very thing about Lance, the day that Blue had emailed him for the first time? Keith tried to hold in a gasp as he realized that there was a very real possibility he was sitting next to Blue right now. And Blue would have absolutely no idea. 

~X~

Although Keith enjoyed spending time with his friends, going out to celebrate was not something he planned to do again. Although he did everytime. Something about the feeling of not wanting to miss out. 

But if he was being honest, he kinda really hated this evening. The restaurant was far too overcrowded, the waiter had brought him over a free dessert and actually sang Happy Birthday, which attracted the attention of the whole restaurant, everyone applauding as Keith pathetically blew out the candle. 

He hated being the centre of attention, and his friends knew that. Allura had apologized profusely while the others just did the standard. Keith didn’t care though. He knew that it wasn’t their intention to upset him. 

Allura, Pidge, and Romelle were the first to leave, waving goodbye as they passed the boys through the other side of the window. 

“I should probably get going soon,” Hunk muttered, eyeing the darkening sky as nightfall descended upon them. 

“I guess we should too, then, right?” Keith asked, looking over at Lance, who was typing something into his phone. “Right, Lance?” he prodded.

“Huh? Oh yeah, probably,” the Cuban boy replied, turning off his phone and setting his portion of the cost onto the table. 

There was something about the dinner that just didn't sit right with Keith. And it wasn’t that he had forgotten about his lactose intolerance again, or even that he had held the attention of everyone at the diner. 

It was that Lance could be Blue. 

If Blue was in fact talking about Keith, which would be weirdly coincidental, that would mean that Lance probably  _ was _ Blue. And it wasn’t like Keith had a problem with Lance potentially being bi. Or even that Lance might have a bit of a crush on him. It was the fact that Keith could never be totally sure until he asked Lance. Or Blue. 

But there was no way he was going to do that. Blue had already said he wasn’t comfortable with sharing identities yet. And there was no way Keith was going to confront Lance and risk being wrong, because then, guess what? Lance would know Keith was gay, and that was slightly terrifiying because well, nobody knew Keith was gay. 

After Hunk had left, the two boys strolled back to Lance’s truck. 

“So listen,” Lance murmured, breaking the weird silence that had fallen between them again. “I know you don’t like parties and stuff, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to, I don’t know, hang out or something. You definitely don’t have to, but I know you like stargazing- um, Allura told me, I’m not a creep! And I happen to know a really good spot . . . But, again, you don’t-” 

Keith cut him off, putting an end to his mumblings: “Actually, I’d love to.” 

Lance’s face lit up with a huge, toothy grin that showed his dimples and made his ocean-blue eyes look that much livelier. 

And there was something about it that just made Keith’s heart stop. Just for a second. But a second was long enough for him to realize- 

_ Shit. Shit. Shit. shit. This is not happening. You are not falling for Lance freaking McClain.  _

“Don’t forget to buckle up,” Lance reminded as he tossed himself into the driver’s seat, throwing his backpack into the backseat. Keith sat down in shotgun.

“Whatever,” Keith scoffed. “Your eyes are still glued to your phone, we’re not going anywhere.” 

“Shut up, Mullet, just give me another minute,” Lance replied, his fingers typing furiously. 

The moment Lance sat up, Keith felt his phone buzz. He felt a shiver run through his spine. That could only mean one thing. His notifications were turned off for everyone, with the exception of one person. Blue. 

~X~ 

FROM:  [ blueataglance728@gmail.com ](mailto:blueataglance728@gmail.com)

TO:  [ rushofadrenaline@gmail.com ](mailto:rushofadrenaline@gmail.com)

SUBJECT: weird days 

DATE: Oct 23 at 7:09 PM 

Red, 

Sorry for the long awaited reply. You’re dependent on me now, aren’t you? Anyways, I got caught up in the family business for a bit. My brother just came back home for a surprise visit and my family and I just wanted to spend time with him before he’s off again. 

So, how have you been? You mentioned your weird day again in your last email, so I’m just being the good friend you know I am and checking in. 

I guess it’s nearly Halloween, hope you get some candy corn before all the stores sell out ‘till next year. 

Your fav, 

— Blue 

~X~ 

“You’ve never been to Alsby park?” Lance exclaimed. “Dude, if that’s true, your stargazing is going to reach another level of awesome.” 

“Yeah, right” Keith scoffed, rolling his eyes a little as if he was in disbelief of his friend’s? Acquaintance’s? Rival’s? (Crush’s?) claim. 

There was not a single cloud in sight, leaving the sky open for everyone to take pleasure in gawking at the stars. 

And wasn’t even just the sky, the weather was surprisingly nice as well. No freezing gusts of wind tonight. It was just the right temperature for them to wear hoodies and hats, while their breath came out in little white puffs. 

“Down here,” Lance said suddenly, grabbing Keith’s wrist and dragging him into the forest. 

“What are you doing?” Keith demanded. “You’re not gonna, like, murder me and hide my body in the woods, are you?” he suggested jokingly. 

“Just shut it, Mullet, or I just might,” Lance retorted, his hand still clenched tightly around Keith’s wrist. 

“Wow,” Keith breathed when they were finally in the clearing. 

Lance was right. The stars seemed to shine brighter here, coming off as a red or blue colour instead of their usual white. They reflected in the huge pond below, making the scene a bit more magical. There was a grassy ledge all along the edges of the pond, like a miniaturized, soft, green cliff.

“I know, right?” Lance replied, but not in his usual smug manner. Just a casual, ‘I found this cool place and I wanted to show you,’ kind of way. 

“How’d you find this place?” Keith asked, sitting beside Lance and letting his legs dangle over the cliff’s edge, although cliff, upon further examination, was a bit of an exaggeration. A steep hill was a better description. 

The other boy shrugged. “I’m not really sure. My brother Luis took me and the rest of my siblings here a few summers ago. Maybe grade six? I don’t know, it was just before he moved out.” He paused “Now I’m the only McClain sibling left at home, and I come here sometimes when I miss them.” 

Keith sighed. Even if he and Lance weren’t particularly close, Keith knew how much of a people’s person the other boy was. He’d never even thought about how Lance might be feeling, being the only sibling out of five left at home. Because that was how it always had been for Keith. He had no siblings. And for a really long time, no friends, either. 

“I know I can’t replace your siblings,” Keith started, “but I’m always here if you just wanna hang out. In the cold, might I add, to talk or not talk. I don’t know what makes you feel better, but I don’t think I’d mind either way.”

Lance turned and flashed Keith a faint smile. “Thanks, Mulletman.” 

“Oh, my God! For the last time!” Keith groaned. “Enough with the names! Especially after I was just being nice to you!” he complained, teasingly punching the other boy’s arm. 

And then they fell back into the silence again. But it was a different type of silence. Not the stiff and awkward one they had experienced earlier. Rather a comfortable silence, knowing the other was there and just basking in their company. And they both cherished it.

They just lay on the grass, their bodies side by side, as they stared up at the array of gleaming stars, hundreds and thousands of lightyears away from Earth.

What a crazy world it was. And they were here. Together. Side by side on this gorgeous night. 

Keith didn’t know what to call this. Less than a week ago he and Lance had been rivals, but what were they now? Acquaintances? Friends? He wasn't sure. But whatever it was, he liked it. It felt good and fragile and silly. And maybe it made him feel a little bit giddy. 

All he knew was, after this moment, he definitely liked the idea of liking Lance. Especially if he was Blue. 

~X~

FROM:  [ rushofadrenaline@gmail.com ](mailto:rushofadrenaline@gmail.com)

TO:  [ blueataglance728@gmail.com ](mailto:blueataglance728@gmail.com)

SUBJECT: Re: weird days 

Date: Oct 24 at 1:25 AM 

Blue, 

I guess you're right, I have become a little attached to your emails. I mean, it’s not like they brighten my day each time I read one or anything (they definitely do). 

It must’ve been nice to see your dad. I can’t relate. My dad passed away when I was little. Don’t get all sympathetic on me, ‘cause I hate it when people do that. They always say things like, “You don’t even remember him, do you?” and you know what hurts? That they’re right. Does that make me a bad son? 

I’ve been doing alright, I guess. But you’re right, you are kind of a good friend, even if I don’t know who you are yet. 

I will not be getting candy corn, because they are disgusting. Honestly, how can you enjoy them? They’re pure shit. 

Sincerely, 

— Red 

~X~ 

It was nearing 2 AM, but tonight was just a sleepless night. Keith had had his fair share of sleepless nights, perhaps too many. 

But tonight, he didn’t mind. It gave him time to reflect on the previous day. 

He had gotten home late, returning just before 12 AM. That was how much of a good time he’d had with Lance. 

Keith didn’t need to worry about returning home stealthily, because he knew his mother was at work. Her shift at the bar as a mixologist had started the moment he walked through the door. 

He made his way to his bedroom, leaving the door wide open so it wouldn’t creak when he plopped onto his bed with the shoebox and a pack of Sticky Tack that was left on the kitchen counter. 

His bedroom walls were relatively plain, only boasting a shelf for his book collection. That was pretty much it. 

Slowly, Keith sorted through the contents of his birthday gift, separating the photos, the cards, and the drawings into different piles. 

The cards would remain in the box, whereas everything else would be displayed on the walls above his bed. 

When he was finished, he stood up and stepped backwards, admiring his work. 

There were pictures of him and his friends that spanned over the past year. Pictures of their beach day in June where he and Pidge got so burnt they were red for a week. That time they went on a hike where Allura had found a swimming spot with a rope swing. A group shot of them under the fireworks on the fourth of July and that one time when he, Pidge and Lance deconstructed a whole package of Oreos while Hunk stared at them with disappointment in the background. 

He had also stuck up two of Lance’s drawings. They were just rough pencil-sketches but looking at them made Keith feel happy, almost at peace. 

The addition to the wall beside his bed not only aesthetically pleasing but it made his room feel full. It was a constant reminder that there were people out there who really did care about him. 

Kosmo let out a small growl as Keith pushed him aside, trying to get the dog to share the bed. 

“Shhh, sorry buddy, I’m here now” he whispered at his black lab. 

Kosmo complied, resting his snout on Keith’s bare chest. 

Keith wasn’t sure why, but he was always freezing during the day, and then at night he’d be dripping in sweat if he wore anything more than his ragged old sweatpants. Humans were funny like that. They were funny in more than one way. Just like feelings. 

Keith had never really experienced truly complex feelings beside his mostly resolved anger issues and his sexual identity crisis. Until now. 

He didn’t know why he felt like this. He had never even shown an interest in Lance before. If he was being totally one hundred percent honest, Lance used to annoy the crap out of him. But that wasn’t how he felt anymore. 

If Lance really was Blue like he suspected, did that mean Lance liked him? Oh, God. Did that mean Keith had been Lance’s bisexual awakening? Well, honestly, at least Lance’s awakening hadn’t been fucking  _ Sokka _ from  _ Avatar _ . Not that it being Keith was much better. 

His mind was still racing as he thought about stargazing with Lance. How badly he’d wanted to reach over and kiss him when he'd said he was glad Keith had wanted to come with him. 

But he couldn’t. 

Keith could only watch from the sidelines as his heart fell for Lance McClain. The last person he’d ever expected it to. 


	4. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi, um thanks to everyone who has read this and/or commented and left kudos, they're very much appreciated. it might be a little while before the next chapter is complete but it is currently a work in progress.  
> heads up, there's a bit of avatar references for this chapter and under-aged drinking, i hope you enjoy the update :)

FROM:  [ rushofadrenaline@gmail.com ](mailto:rushofadrenaline@gmail.com)

TO:  [ blueataglance728@gmail.com ](mailto:blueataglance728@gmail.com)

DATE: Oct 30 at 9:56 PM

SUBJECT: Re: hollow wieners 

Blue,

I guess I never tried to pull off something truly scary. It’s kind of hard to scare the members of your household when there's only one of them. My mom. And she’s basically fearless. And also just naturally terrifying, the amount of times she’s managed to startle me is ridiculous. 

My Halloween costume is kinda pathetic on its own, you know? It’s supposed to be part of a group costume, but, knowing the dynamics in my friend group, I can imagine we’ll each be on our own for most of the evening anyway. Not that it matters. 

Are you going to Hunk Garrett’s party? I am.  I’m being blackmailed to go. And if I don’t, our emails will be leaked and everyone will know I’m gay. You’d probably be safe, though. Maybe I’ll see you there, not that I’d know the difference if you came or not. 

— Red

FROM:  [ blueataglance@gmail.com ](mailto:blueataglance@gmail.com)

TO:  [ rushofadrenaline@gmail.com ](mailto:rushofadrenaline@gmail.com)

DATE: Oct 31 at 8:11 AM

SUBJECT: Re: hollow wieners 

Red,

I’m sure your costume will be great, even if you aren’t with your friends the whole evening. Who are you? The Ninja Turtles? Power Rangers? Am I close? Just kidding. I know you can’t tell me. 

Yeah, I’m going to Hunk’s party, even though I don’t really want to. My friends are sort of forcing me. I kinda just want to stay home, gorging on the leftover candies while I watch The Nightmare Before Christmas because no one, I repeat, NO ONE comes to my house to trick-or-treat, but  my mother buys candies nonetheless. 

— Blue

~X~ 

“Stop moving, Keith,” Allura said in frustration. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Keith apologized for the hundredth time, flinching as she brought the make-up brush just a little too close to his eyes. “It feels like you’re going to stab me, how do you do this everyday?”

“Because I can stab myself without fear! Just hold still a little longer, I’m almost done.” 

Keith promised himself that from this point forward, he’d try to avoid makeup. Not that there was anything wrong with makeup, besides it not really being his thing. At all. He just hated the sensation of watering eyes with a brush underneath. 

“What are you doing with that?” Keith asked, pointing at the spray bottle that Allura had swapped the palette for. 

“This is so the makeup won’t come off at the party,” she replied, plucking off the cap and misting some onto her own face. 

Keith wasn’t sure how good his own makeup looked, but if it was anything like Allura’s, it’d be beautiful. 

The liquid was almost like perfume, except the scent wasn’t like an intoxicating flower- it smelled more like rotten apple cider. But Allura assured him the smell would dissolve. 

“So, what do you think?” she asked Keith, standing out of his way so he could look into her bathroom mirror. 

Keith was shocked upon seeing his own reflexion. The makeup looked amazing, much better than anything he could’ve ever pulled off. 

“It’s great!” He smiled, tugging the elastic out of his hair so it fell just above his shoulders, his costume now complete.

“Do I look like Zuko?”

Allura nodded as she adjusted her hair. Despite everyone assuming she’d be Yue, since they both shared the same dark skin and silver locks, she’d chosen Azula. 

Oddly enough, though, she was rocking the costume. Even if Keith was into guys, he couldn’t deny that Allura looked good. He was gay afterall, not blind. 

When the two of them had finally stopped fussing over their appearances, they departed from Allura’s bathroom and joined the others, who were gathered in the kitchen, ogling over frozen pizzas that had just exited the oven. 

Pidge was the first to notice them. “Keith! Your eye looks so cool!” she exclaimed, admiring Allura’s artistic skills. Allura was good at everything. 

They had chosen to dress up like Avatar characters, following Lance’s suggestion. Keith’s suspicion of Lance being Blue had only grown. It had just been about two weeks since he had told Blue that Sokka was his gay awakening. And now Lance brought up the show? Keith decided it couldn’t be a coincidence. 

They were yet to see the group’s costumes all together, since Hunk and Lance were at Hunk’s place, setting up decorations and whatnot. 

Pidge was Toph, Hunk was Aang, Keith and Allura were Zuko and Azula, Romelle was Ty Lee, and,  _ of course, _ Lance was Sokka. They didn’t have enough friends for a Katara, Mai, Suki, or a Yue.

“You guys look really good too,” Keith said awkwardly, not entirely sure how else to reply as he reached for a slice of non-dairy cheese pizza. 

“Why aren’t you wearing shoes, Pidge?” Allura asked. 

Pidge just cackled. “I am not Pidge! I am Melon lord!” 

“I don’t care about melon lord, wear shoes or your feet will suffer, the amount of bottles that get broken at parties are ridiculous,” she chided, her mom side coming out. 

Just then there was a knock at the door, quickly followed by the doorbell and another rapid knock. 

They stared at each other in confusion until Keith spoke up. 

“I uh- I invited Lotor” he muttered, his face feeling hot as he received disapproving looks from his friends. 

“You what?” Allura shrieked. 

“Is this a make-a-wish situation?” Pidge questioned. 

Keith sucked in a breath “No” he squeaked “Lotor’s just a … just a cool guy.”  _ And totally not a dickhead who’s threatening to out me to the entirety of the Garrison if I don't do this and help him date you, Allura.  _

“No he’s not,” Romelle said.  _ No he is not,  _ Keith thought to himself. 

But nonetheless, they all trudged our way to the door to greet the odious boy. 

~X~ 

Every second spent in this boy’s presence made Keith question his will to live. How bad would it be if he just came out now, to all of his soon-to-be wasted friends, right before the annual Halloween party? Would it be that bad? Surely it couldn’t be, because Lotor would have no leverage, right? 

“Why were you flirting with Allura?” Lotor demanded the moment they stepped out of Allura’s car. The others were out of earshot and loud music was filling the air, even from the end of Hunk’s driveway. 

Keith was taken aback “I- What?”

“You heard me, why the hell were you flirting with Allura back in the car? You’re just supposed to set things up! The actual romancing is my department!” 

_ I- I’m sorry. WHAT.  _ Keith thought.  _ Did he really think I was flirting with Allura? Me and Allura? But I’m gay. GAY. GAAAAAAAY. And he knows that better than anyone.  _

So Keith replied with the only acceptable thing he could say: “We’ve dressed as siblings for Halloween, what does that tell you?” He realized that his tone came off as snarky just a moment too late. 

Lotor did the most exaggerated eye roll Keith had ever seen. “Watch your tone, Kogane” he threatened “Or the school might accidentally find out about your little secret.” 

Keith’s heart practically stopped right then. 

“She’s probably hanging out with Romelle and Nyma,” he mumbled, barely audible. 

As if a switched was flipped, Lotor strutted away from Keith in his stupid Halloween costume in search of Allura in a good mood, he even bothered to wave to goodbye to Keith as he stood shunned on the front lawn after what had just happened. Because it wasn’t everyday that your blackmailer casually brought up the secret you’d do anything to keep hidden and then just walk away as if nothing out of the ordinary had even happened. 

But the normalcy for exchanges like these were generally increasing. Unfortunately. 

Keith tried his best to shrug it off but he just felt overwhelmed by his own anxiety. If Lotor could casually blab about Keith’s sexuality while sober, how much worse could it get while he was drunk or wasted? He’d just have to trust that Lotor wouldn’t want to lose his leverage. 

The closer Keith got to Hunk’s front door, the louder the music became. 

He sat on the porch for a moment, trying to recollect himself. He was at a party, A freaking party. And for what? Blue’s idea of an ideal halloween was sounding pretty appealing to Keith right about now. But he took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

“Keith!” Hunk exclaimed, grinning brightly, seconds after he swung open his front door “Your costume looks amazing!” he said, eyeing Keith’s red clothes and the makeup. 

“So does yours,” Keith replied, complimenting Hunk’s yellow shirt and loose, billowing pants, and his orange shawl-thingy. Hunk was still wearing his signature orange bandana, which, oddly enough, didn’t look too out of place, as it still fit the colour scheme of Aang’s classic outfit. “Do you know where the others went?” 

Hunk nodded “Yeah, Allura’s over there with Romelle and Pidge is at the snack bar, and I think Lance is still in the backyard.” He nodded before walking away from Hunk, not entirely sure where his feet were taking him to. 

Keith was surprised at the size of the party, sure Hunk had thrown parties before but this was by far the biggest. As he made his way through the house, Keith had actually had to squeeze between people who were sloshing down cups of alcohol. It wasn’t even past nine. 

Stepping out in the backyard felt refreshing for a moment. The cool air brushing against his skin and for once, he didn’t feel cold. 

“Keith? Is that you?” someone called out over the music. 

His eyes wavered from the pool over to the direction of the voice until he set his sights upon Lance. 

Keith almost choked. Lance stood no less than a foot away from him, his blue shirt being tight enough that Keith could see an outline of the abs Lance had been so set on getting. If Keith had had no self control, he’d’ve pinned Lance to the wall, peppering him with kisses. 

“Hi” was all Keith could manage to gay- TO SAY. 

“Hey buddy,” Lance said, grinning as he stared down at Keith “You good?” 

_ Am I good? Am I- fuck, I’m blushing, aren’t I?  _

“Yeah, why?” 

“You just- nevermind, so uh you’re at the party huh?” Lance asked, dropping his counterpoint to Keith’s response. 

“Yeah, I’m at a party, woohoo” he muttered with fake enthusiasm but Lance still managed to get a kick about it, his face breaking out in a cute smile as he laughed. Fuck. 

Keith wasn’t even sure what had happened. Before his birthday, he’d never once had an interest in loud, nosy, obnoxious Lance but upon learning he might be Blue, Keith realized that there was more to it than the naked eye could see. Lance might be loud and nosy and obnoxious but he was also sweet, funny and considerate. Because now, his feelings about Lance had changed and he was definitely pining. 

“Do you wanna get a drink or something?” 

Right. Alcohol was a thing. A thing that Keith had never really bothered to try before, besides tastes that his mom had let him try- a little sip of some beer, wine, or cider that she’d just bought, which she wanted to know what he thought of even if he wouldn’t be the one drinking it. 

“Uh, sure,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, starting to follow Lance into the house. 

And then noise was back, the pounding bass of the terrible music and the vocals of karaoke singers, the sounds of happy partiers and stomping feet. All enough to make Keith’s head ache. But this time he didn’t feel completely alone, Lance was here too. 

Lance led him to the kitchen, weaving through their partying classmates to a huge display of booze. Like seriously, huge. It was the most amount of alcohol he’d seen since that one time his mother brought him into work to collect her paycheck. 

“What do you want?” He asked, gesturing towards the line of bottles and cans in front of him. 

“Whatever you’re having” Keith replied, not even bothering to inspect what might be written on the labels. Surely liquor couldn’t taste that awful, right? 

Wrong. 

After taking a gulp out of whatever Lance had poured into the red solo cup, Keith nearly spit it out, wanting to wipe the horrendous taste out his mouth. 

“What,” he winced “Is this?” 

“Cactus Juice,” Lance replied, a smirk nestled into his face about his Avatar reference but it died when he realized Keith was being serious “It’s Vodka.” 

“It’s disgusting,” Keith said, his throat burning at the aftertaste. 

“So I take it you won’t wanna play beer pong then.”

Then Keith was hit with a realization. Beer pong needs four players, two teams, if he could convince Lotor and Allura to play alongside him and Lance . . .

Jackpot. 

“No, no,” he said “I’ll play.” 

~X~ 

His plans were momentarily stymied when Allura flat out refused to play.

“I am not going to join in on some stupid game with that . . . that . . . goddamn hellkite!”

“Come on, Allura.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

“No!” She crossed her arms, turning away.

“Allura?”

“Why?” she exploded. “He’s awful!”

“No- no he’s not!” Keith steeled himself to lie through his teeth. “I’ve been talking to him lately, and he’s . . . actually a really good guy.” 

Allura looked skeptical, but she didn’t interrupt as Keith forged onward.  _ I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.  _ “I mean, he sort of acts like a jerk sometimes-” 

She scoffed. 

“-But he just . . . wants to be liked. And he doesn’t know how to get people to like him.” This was easy to lie about- the feeling was as familiar to Keith as the back of his hand. “So he lashes out, as if he can pretend that he doesn't care- that he has no real friends, and that people only act like they like him because they’re intimidated.” Keith suddenly recalled Blue saying, “attention’s attention, right?” and he pushed it aside. 

Allura’s face softened a little. “Did he tell you that?” she asked quietly.

Keith shrugged. “It’s obvious. He feels lonely, and he doesn’t know how to talk to people, so he pushes them away. Like I used to do- and then you guys took me in. I thought, well, maybe we could do the same thing for someone else.”

Keith died a little as he saw Allura relenting. But he had to finish the job. He poured it on, gave it everything he had, for the final sprint. “You know, he admires you a lot. Particularly.” 

She looked shocked, and Keith continued, “I mean, the way you’re always so friendly? And . . . helpful and kind and just an amazing person . . . He wishes he could be more like you. That’s . . . part of the reason he wants to hang out with us, too. He wants to learn to be more like you, I guess.” 

Allura looked a little confused, but flattered. After a moment of silence, in which Keith waited on tenterhooks, she said, “ . . . Alright. I suppose . . . I never knew that about him. Maybe you are right. Maybe he is not so bad.” Keith smiled, even though internally he was miserable, as he suggested, “Why don’t you go talk to him? Invite him to play with us?”

Allura looked mildly alarmed, but then she seemed to consider. “Alright, maybe I will.”

Keith nodded. “Go for it!” he said supportively, wincing internally as he realized how it sounded. She raised an eyebrow, but then walked over to ask Lotor if he wanted to play Beer Pong. Lotor looked like his dreams were coming true, and, for a second, Keith didn’t quite hate him.

~X~ 

He felt like he was on a new level of energy, one that the caffeine in his iced coffee could never reach even after three cups. 

So he used that burst of energy to do the things he’d never been able to do while sober. Such as singing karaoke to Justin Bieber’s “as long as you love me” as a duet with Lance. He felt confident and comfortable in his own skin for the first time since Lotor had confronted him that fateful day. 

Keith felt like he was the life of the party. But eventually he faded, the alcohol starting to give him a headache that throbbed each time someone cranked the volume up a little louder. 

“Dude, Keith,” Pidge said, waving her hands in front of his face in hopes to catch his attention. “Are you alright?” When he didn’t reply, she snapped her fingers loudly. “KEITH!” 

He flinched back and blinked, surprised at the sudden movement. “What?” he asked, voice groggy. 

“How much did you drink?” she demanded. 

Keith thought back and tried to count. 1, 2, 3, 4 . . . 

“I don’t know” he answered, knowing however much he drank, it was too much. 

“We should probably head back to my place now,” Pidge stated, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. 

Across the room, Lotor was furiously waving hand signals to Keith, who wished he was drunk enough for his vision to be too blurry to make them out, but, alas, not yet. The universe had a funny way of throwing spite, didn’t it? 

“What the hell do you want?” Keith asked when he finally made his way to Lotor’s side. 

“Cool it, Kogane,” Lotor said, as if he was diffusing a bad situation, which he obviously wasn’t. If anything, he was the one chucking gasoline onto the fire. “I just wanted to let you know, you did good tonight. I expect something like this again in about two weeks.” 

The stench of . . . what? Weed? Was on the tip of Lotor’s tongue. Apparently when both drunk and high, he had no respect for personal space. Hell, he barely did when sober. 

“Yeah, fine, whatever, just leave me alone,” Keith muttered, pushing him aside and stumbling away. How was it possible that Lotor was annoying no matter what mentality Keith was in? Sober, drunk, etc. Either way, he’d never be free of Lotor’s nagging. 

The Halloween party had been far out of Keith’s comfort zone, but it seemed to pay off. He just hoped that, whatever the next bonding moment for Lotor and Allura was, it didn’t need to involve his presence. 

He was trudging his way back to Pidge, who was obnoxiously sprawled across the couch, when he heard voices speaking over the music- the volume was generally decreasing the later past eleven it became. 

“‘L-lura . . .! I love you-ou-uu . . .!” an awfully familiar voice slurred “‘Lura, I . . . lidder-lly love you so so-oo fuckin mmuch.” 

“Lance, I-” Allura stuttered, tripping over her words as well, though she was clearly less drunk than Lance. “I love you, too.” 

_ As a friend, as a friend. Please say as a friend. One of you. For God’s sake, both of you say it, as a friend! _

“No-ooo,'' Lance continued. “Like d-da-dating! D’you wanna be my- be my boyf … friend? Wait shit. Girl- mierda. I dunno … I love you a lot … ttle. It … s’ike a little, but a lot, I- I dunno . . .”

Allura just laughed. Then she sighed and hugged him. 

“Alri-ight, Lance. O-of course I’ll go- go out with you.”

“Really? You will?” Lance laughed. “Yeahahaha! Woo-oo! Woohoo-o! Pfahahaha, I’m . . . the coolest! I’m like . . . a cool . . . yeah!” he trailed off, wincing.

Allura considered him for a long moment, her face oddly vague. “Yeah, you’re . . . pr-pretty wasted,” she muttered as he conked out with his head in her lap. She gently pushed his dark brown hair off his forehead, and said, “We’ll talk tomo-morrow, when you’re sober.” 

Oh. Keith really was a dumbass to think that Lance would like him.

Even if Lance was very clearly drunk it didn’t mean his words weren’t true. He was just unfiltered. 

Keith was practically a failure when you compared his accomplishments to Allura’s; no wonder Lance liked her instead of him. 

What an idiot Keith had been to even  _ consider _ Lance liking  _ him _ when Allura was constantly at their side. Not only was she smart, kind, and considerate, she was also beautiful and gorgeous and everything else that Keith could never be. 

And for the first time in years, Keith felt like he didn’t matter, like he was inadequate compared to his friends, even to goofy, silly Lance, because at least he was open about who he was. 

Whereas Keith was a closeted gay loner who had a pathetic crush on his jock friend. 

He really was stupid. 

~X~ 

“Shut up!” Pidge hissed, hitting Keith with her sweater as code to get downstairs faster “You’re going to wake my whole house, God forbid you wake up Bae Bae!” 

“Kosmo hasn’t seen Bae Bae forever,” Keith realized suddenly. This was a crashing realization. How had he not had this epiphany before? “We should go to the park!” he exclaimed.

Pidge stared at him sideways. “Now?” she whispered incredulously.

“‘Course not,” Keith laughed, and started giggling. The dog park in the middle of the night! That was hilarious.

“Good. Glad you’re still at least a little bit sane when you’re drunk. And don’t step on any of Matt’s robotic messes!” she added, whisper-shouting at him from behind. 

“I won’t, Pidgeon, promise,” Keith slurred, tripping down the steps as Pidge shoved him into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her as if waking up the family was a huge concern. Keith had learned quickly from his first couple sleepovers with Pidge that the entirety of the Holt family were heavy sleepers. Seriously. You could probably throw a bomb next door and they wouldn’t wake at the explosion. 

Keith flopped onto the mattress Pidge set up for him on the floor, wanting to sink under the covers and prevent his inevitable hangover from ruining his Sunday afternoon. 

“Keith Kogane, don’t you dare fall asleep yet,” Pidge ordered. “At least change out of your costume and brush your teeth; your morning breath is enough without alcohol added to the mix.” 

He rolled his eyes a little, chuckling as he did what she instructed. He picked up his bag and headed to the bathroom, groaning as each step felt like walking on knives.

~X~ 

“The room has stopped spinning,” Keith said blandly while wringing shower-water out of his hair. 

“That’s a start,” Pidge replied, looking away from her laptop to glance over at Keith. “You’re still walking funny, though.” She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, hunched over the computer in her lap. 

“Agh! Shut up,” he grumbled as he finally flopped onto his mattress. 

“Dude, seriously, how much did you drink?” she asked, still laughing at his lop-sided walk. 

“Just a little.” 

Pidge gave him a deeply skeptical look. 

“Okay, maybe more than a little, but it’s not my fault, we were playing beer pong and Allura-” 

“Oh my God, Keith! Do you like Allura?” she piped. 

Keith let out a deep sigh of frustration; no, he did not like Allura. He didn't even like girls, for crying out loud! 

“No,” he replied. “I do not like Allura, at least not romantically.” 

“Oh,” Pidge muttered, the room feeling encased by an unexpected silence as neither of them knew what to say next. 

Pidge’s fairy lights started changing colours as she fiddled with the remote, settling on a nice shade of deep blue. A colour that instantly reminded him of Lance’s ocean eyes and Blue and the Tumblr posts and- Keith stopped, scolding himself for bringing up Lance after the incident he’d just witnessed. 

He curled up underneath the blankets and nestled into the pillow, trying to erase Lance from his mind. But he couldn’t. There was just something about him that Keith couldn’t let go of, at least not yet. Not when he was in a state where he couldn’t vehemently deny what he felt. 

No matter how hard he fought against his feelings, they always seemed to win. 

“Do you ever feel weird?” Keith blurted out, not even entirely sure if Pidge was still awake. 

The rustling of blankets from her bed confirmed that she was. “Weird?” she asked, her face squished against the side of her pillow as she lay on her side, squinting down at Keith. 

“Yeah. Weird. Like, sometimes I feel like I’m always on the outside.” 

Pidge’s hand searched across her bedside-table until she found her glasses. “What do you mean?” she asked, adjusting them on the bridge of her nose. 

“Like tonight, at that party, it was fun, right? But was it only fun cause I was drunk?” Keith stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on Pidge’s ceiling as he spoke. “Usually I feel like I’m watching things from a distance, and sometimes that's okay, but other times . . . Other times I feel like there’s this invisible thing I have to cross to be apart of stuff. And I just can't seem to cross it.” 

This conversation was probably long overdue, and likely finally brought on by the alcohol in his system. Although Keith typically enjoyed some isolation with his introverted personality, something was different now. Just the thought that Lance might have been Blue had given him some comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the only closeted guy at school. But he was pretty sure his chances were ruined after what he’d overheard. 

Even if Lance was drunk, he’d still managed to secure Allura. Though maybe they’d break up in the morning. But the matter stood that even if Lance was bi, Keith knew he couldn’t be Blue. Blue could be anybody, but he definitely wasn’t Lance. 

“Sometimes I feel like that too,” Pidge said softly after a few moments of silence. “But I know I’m not alone. I’ve got Allura, Romelle, Hunk, Matt, and Lance and you. And we’re all here for  _ you _ if you ever want to talk about it.” 

Keith didn’t know what to respond, so he just continued staring at the ceiling, simply basking in Pidge’s company. 

“You’re a sad drunk, aren’t you?” she finally asked casually. 

“A what?” he asked, sitting straight up. 

“I don’t know, just . . . usually when people get drunk, they have designated moods. Like, Lance is a flirty drunk, Romelle is a sleepy drunk, and I think Allura’s a feisty drunk. Are you a sad drunk, Keith?” 

“I don’t know,” he replied. “This is my first time drinking. At least, it’s my first time drinking heavily.” 

Pidge’s eyebrows nearly shot up to her hairline. “Really? I could’ve sworn-” 

Keith shook his head slightly dejectedly. “I guess I am a sad drunk.” 

They both let out small chuckles. “I guess we should get to bed now,” Pidge said, glancing at her watch. “You’d better sleep off that hangover.” 

“We’ll see,” he muttered, flipping his pillow and putting his hood over his head. 

“Good night, Keith,” whispered Pidge’s voice softly from above him, burrowed in the blankets of her bed. 

“G’night, Pidge.” 

~X~ 

FROM:  [ rushofadrenaline@gmail.com ](mailto:rushofadrenaline@gmail.com)

TO:  [ blueataglance728@gmail.com ](mailto:blueataglance728@gmail.com)

DATE: Nov 1 at 1:31am 

SUBJECT: Re: hollow wieners 

Blue, 

I cannot think straight and this time it’s not a even a gay metaphor. 

My head hurts so bad right now, I had alcohol at the party for the first time. Way too much alcohol. 

I am informing you in advance that I am never going to a halloween party again. Maybe next year I’;; know who you are and then you better invite me over to eat the leftover candies and binge horror movies, 

I hope your night at the Halloween party was better than mine. Something really unexpected happened and I”m not entirely sure what to think of it. 

Anyways, you better be sleeping if you're anywhere near as drunk as me. 

  
_ Love _ , Red 


	5. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi, im back with chapter four! sorry the month-long disappearance but i'm back now! chapter five might be done by the end of january or perhaps early february, i'll my hardest to work it in between my end of the semester projects and exams.

There was something about the way Lance and Allura were staring at each other that made Keith uncomfortable. Something about the way Allura’s eyes gleamed and the lovesick grin on Lance’s face. It was clear to Keith, and, unfortunately, to Lotor too, that whatever happened on Saturday night wasn’t just a drunken confession anymore. Keith glanced over at his blackmailer, who had invited himself into their lunch table that day, and was currently sitting across from Allura, next to Pidge. The dynamic felt off to Keith, though he was sure Lance and Allura didn’t notice, caught up in each other as they were. Lotor was uncharacteristically silent, staring keenly at Lance, his mouth set in a bitter line, like he was ready to rip the laughing, grinning boy apart piece by piece. Somehow, Keith couldn’t find it in himself to even care. He was actually almost tempted to join Lotor in murdering Lance, though he wasn’t quite sure why. 

“So are you like dating or something?” Pidge finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence with genuine curiosity. 

Allura spoke first. “Sort of. We’re going on a date or two and then we’ll talk about what’s next.” 

“It’s gonna be the best date she’s ever been on,” Lance informed the whole table, while Allura rolled her eyes and flashed an embarrassed smile. 

“Where are you taking her?” Hunk questioned as he re-tied his bandana around his head, missing a couple strands of his black hair. 

“I can’t tell!” Lance cried, waving his hands in exasperation. “It’s a surprise! But I know she’ll love it.” 

Abruptly, Romelle stood up, her chair making a loud squeaking sound. For a second or two she just stared at them, like a deer in the headlights, before rushing out of the cafeteria. 

Everyone stopped for a minute, watching her leave in confusion. Keith hesitated before deciding to go after her. 

He walked out into the hallway and saw her, leaning against the wall, one knee bent, foot flat on the white-painted stone behind her. 

“Hey,” Keith offered. “You okay?” She glowered, staring fixedly ahead. Keith felt way out of his depth. But this was his friend. He had to try.

“Um, what’s up?”

She glanced sideways at him derisively, and jerked her head toward the cafeteria doors, from which a low hum of chatter and lunchtime sounds was emanating.

Then it clicked. “Do you . . . like Lance?” Keith asked hesitantly. Romelle scowled and looked away again.

Keith leaned against the wall next to her, not expecting an answer at this point. But then she said, quietly, “Do you like Allura?” 

Why did everyone keep asking that? Keith was GAY. Then again, it was unfair for him to expect people to know that if he didn’t tell them.

So he just stood next to her in silence, not confirming or denying it, pretending not to notice as one, lone tear trickled down her cheek.

Keith closed his eyes and let his head rest on the wall. It was peaceful, even if his heart felt like it was cracking. Seeing his friend upset and not knowing how to help her was horrible. Feeling that same heart-wrenching emotion, for the same reason, the same person, and not being able to tell her? That made it worse.

Seemed like everyone had a crush on Lance-

“Kogane!” 

The voice came out of nowhere, startling Keith from his thoughts. A hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away from Romelle. She barely seemed to notice Keith leaving- or rather, being dragged away. As Keith looked away from her, he saw who was pulling him across the hallway. Lotor. He should have guessed.

“The hell, Kogane?” Lotor spat as soon as they were out of hearing range.

“What?” Keith asked, even though he already knew. 

“Lance and Allura! That’s what!” 

Keith honestly couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Why the hell are they still dating?” hissed Lotor. “He was drunk! They weren’t supposed to actually get together!”

_ “I know!” _ Keith shouted, then lowered his voice to a frantic, furious whisper. “I  _ know _ that, Lotor! I don’t know why. I thought it didn’t count, too. I thought they’d break up first thing, too! Look, I feel as bad about this as you do!”

Why had he said that?

“No you fucking don’t!” Lotor whispered harshly. “You don’t fucking like her!”

Keith stared at him like he was stupid.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

“I- I’m . . .” Lotor looked a little lost for a moment. “I’m actually sorry, man. Guess you do get it.” 

Huh. Perhaps Lotor wasn’t a total jerk. 

“Yeah. I mean, I thought, maybe there was a chance he was Blu- bi, bisexual.”

He’d nearly said Blue. God, Keith was a disaster, spilling his guts to Lotor, of all people. As if he needed more shit to be held over him. 

“The hell are you talking about?” Lotor looked at him funny. “He could still be bi!”

“But he doesn’t like me.” It hurt to admit that, why was he talking about this anyways? “Whatever,” he continued. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not important. Shouldn’t we be worrying about you?”

“I haven't got a chance,” Lotor said. He looked away, working his jaw furiously. “You can fucking forget the Allura thing. It’s over.”

_ No, no, no, it’s not. Or else you’ll be able to hold this over my head forever.  _

“No way! You can’t give up now! I just got her to think you’re alright!” Keith felt weirdly firm about this. “All we’ve gotta do is break them up!” Well, he definitely felt firm about that.

“Yeah, she’ll love me if I screw up her relationship.” Woah. Love?

“Look. I honestly don’t think she’s that into him.” Keith started. Lotor scoffed. Keith ignored him. “And, uh, Lance flirts with any person with two legs. Or even without legs. He’ll land on his feet.” Keith tried and failed at not sounding bitter.

“Listen. I’m gonna give you my phone number, okay?” he offered Lotor, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “And I’ll text you anything that comes up. Then you can stop following me around. It’s weird and annoying, and also kind of suspicious. Okay?”

Lotor nodded at him grimly, taking out his shiny iPhone 11 in its sleek black case. For some reason, as they exchanged numbers, Keith truly didn’t despise Lotor. They almost felt like . . . partners in crime, or some shit. Which concerned and weirded Keith out. Not hating your blackmailer. Was that even allowed?

~X~ 

“ALRIGHT EVERYBODY!” Shiro shouted, clapping for attention. There was some murmuring before everyone focused on him. “Let’s get down to pocket-picking! Listen, Fagin’s Boys, why are you stealing all this crap? Do you all understand the scene?”

“Uh,” Lance started, glancing up from his phone. Shiro scowled pointedly at it, and Lance shoved it in his pocket. “They’re showing off for Oliver?”

“Good, good, why?”

“Um-” 

“Because they want to intimidate him, show him that they’re better?” It was Allura piping up.

“Perfect, yes! Anyone else?”

There was silence. Keith racked his brain. “They want to tell Oliver what they’re all about. And they’re showing off because they want to let him know what he’s gonna be doing in an impressive way, so he doesn’t realize stealing’s a bad thing.”

“Exactly! I think that covers just about everything. Thank you, you three. Thirty points to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!”

There were some murmurs of confusion, but Keith, Allura, and Lance grinned at each other. God, Shiro was a nerd.

“Let’s start!” Shiro called, brushing off the confusion of the few uncultured swine in the group. “Places!”

Everyone began making their way to their designated spots, preparing to begin the number ‘You’ve Got to Pick a Pocket or Two’. 

“And Matt, can you grab the handkerchiefs, please?” 

“Sure, Shiro!”

Keith whirled around to look for the source of the voice. Then he saw a pale hand waving from the orchestra pit. Was that where he was every rehearsal?  _ Why? _

Matt clambered out the trap door, shaking back his shaggy, dirty-blonde hair. Keith’s eyes widened in surprise- he hadn’t seen Matt for a while. He looked . . . different. Bigger, somehow. Like he’d been working out. He looked sort of less nerdy, too; he'd gotten contacts, bequeathing his old, round glasses to Pidge. She wore them religiously. Keith was a little scared to ask her if she actually needed them. 

Matt was wearing a dark grey t-shirt and jeans, which he brushed the dust off his hands on as he straightened up. He was actually . . . pretty good-looking now, Keith realized with a jolt. He’d sort of always considered Matt Pidge’s geeky older brother. This was weird. 

Matt grinned at Shiro, teeth flashing, and jogged off stage, returning a moment later with armfuls of scarves and hankies. Shiro murmured his thanks, Matt nodded, and then he dropped back into the pit.

Now that Keith knew he was there, it was somehow hard to forget.

~X~ 

“Hey, Keith. Long time no see!”

Keith turned, startled, to see Matt grinning at him. Rehearsal was over, and Keith was just grabbing his stuff.

“Hey Matt, yeah, it’s been a while. What have you been up to?”

Matt shrugged. “Not much. Robots, gaming, aliens, murder; you know. The usual. How about you?”

Keith grinned. “Not a lot, to be honest.”  _ Except getting blackmailed by a dick.  _ “Have you been lurking under the stage all these rehearsals?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly insinuating that he thought Matt was sleeping on his duties as Assistant Director.

Matt clutched his chest as if he were having a heart attack, or maybe being stabbed. “You wound me!” he said theatrically. “Well, yeah, I have been. But I’ve been doing important stuff, you know!” He raised his hands, eyes widening innocently. “Making posters for the play, making the cast list look cool, techy, designy stuff like that. An Assistant Director’s work is never done.” He sighed, ruining the long-suffering effect by grinning broadly.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing too much Assistant Director-ing . . .”

Matt looked offended. “I don’t need to stand here and take this abuse! Such slander! Seriously though, I just came over to say hi. It’s good to see you, man.”

“It’s good to see you too, Matt,” Keith said, meaning it. It was good to see Matt.

Matt grinned. “Well, you’re gonna be seeing a lot more of me, now. I’ll be ‘Assistant Director-ing’, as you put it, pretty much every rehearsal from now on. I’ve just about finished the posters.”

Keith smiled, reaching for his backpack. “That’s great. When are we going to see them?”

Matt considered for a moment. “I’d say probably a month or two before the play goes on stage.”

“Can’t wait.” Keith pointed his thumbs at the door, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Uh, I’ve gotta go, but it was . . . nice to talk to you.”

Matt grinned, pretending to tip his invisible hat. “Likewise.” He bowed with a flourish, and waved relaxedly as Keith smiled at him and made his way out of the theatre.

Huh.

~X~

FROM: blueataglance728@gmail.com

TO: rushofadrenaline@gmail.com 

**DATE: Nov 2 at 7:12 AM**

SUBJECT: Re: hollow wieners

Red, 

I’m guessing that the “Love, Red” part was only because you were drunk emailing but, uh, don’t worry. I kinda liked it. 

My night at the party wasn’t much better, I really messed something up and I don’t wanna talk or think about it, it was that big of a screw up. I guess neither of us function well with alcohol in our systems. The only good thing was coming home to lay in bed for the entirety of the next day, feeling sorry for myself while stuffing my face with the leftover candies, specifically the Reese’s peanut butter cups. 

Honestly I can’t even imagine myself a year from now, probably off to some university, already overloaded with classwork, struggling to balance education over social life and far away from my  family.  If I’m even ready to come out next year, or maybe just to you in real life, I’d definitely be down for a movie night. 

I can’t believe it’s already almost homecoming. I’m excited about it. Make no mistake, I’m far from a football fanatic, but I actually really like going to the homecoming game. I guess it’s something about the lights and the drumbeats and the scent of the air. Fall air always smells like possibility. Or maybe I just like ogling the cheerleaders and  _ only  _ the cheerleaders, you know me. 

Love, 

Blue 

FROM: rushofadrenaline@gmail.com 

TO: blueataglance728@gmail.com

**DATE: Nov 2 at 5:30 PM**

SUBJECT: Reese’s are better than sex 

I guess we had equally bad nights, but Reese's? C’mon, those are the best. Is it possible to send them over a computer? (And don’t you dare send me a gif, Blue, I know you’re debating it.) 

Okay, I’m glad you mentioned homecoming, because I totally forgot that Spirit Week is this week. Monday was Decades Day, what’s tomorrow again? I should check online so I can avoid making an ass of myself. I’ll probably be an ass anyways. Honestly, I can’t believe they schedule Spirit Week right after Halloween. The Garrison really blows its load on costume days all at once. How do you think you’ll dress up for the week? I know you’re not going to answer that.

And I totally figured you’d be ogling cheerleaders, strictly the cheerleaders and definitely not the football players as well. Because we’re solely about the ladies, aren’t we, Blue? 

Love, 

Red 

FROM: blueataglance728@gmail.com 

TO: rushofadrenaline@gmail.com 

**DATE: Nov 2 at 7:43 PM**

SUBJECT: Re: Reese’s are better than sex 

Reese’s are better than sex? Admittedly, I wouldn’t know myself but I have to hope you’re wrong about that one. Maybe you should stop having heterosexual sex, Red. Just saying. 

So, kinda off topic but I keep thinking about the idea of secret identities. Do you ever feel locked into yourself? I’m not sure if I’m making sense here. I guess what I mean is that sometimes it seems like everyone knows who I am except me, as you already know from my famous tumblr post, you see how many reblogs and notes it has now? 

Of course, that’s the exact reason I don’t want to say anything about Spirit Week and costumes. I don’t want you to put two and two together and figure out who I am. Whatever it is we’re doing here, I don’t think it works if we know each other’s real identities. I have to admit that it makes me nervous to think of you as someone actually connected with my life, rather than a mostly anonymous person on the internet. Obviously, some of the things I’ve told you about myself are things I’ve never talked about with anyone. I don’t know, Red—there’s something about you that makes me want to open up, and that’s slightly terrifying for me.

I hope this isn’t too awkward. I know you were kidding when you asked what costume I was going to wear, but I wanted to put this out there—just in case it wasn’t entirely a joke? I have to admit I’m curious about you sometimes, too.

Love, Blue 

P.S. I’m attaching a Reese’s cup to this email. I don’t care if you advised me against it, it was your idea after all :) 

FROM: rushofadrenaline@gmail.com 

TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com

**DATE: Nov 3 at 12:23am**

SUBJECT: Re: Reese’s are better than sex 

I think I made you uncomfortable, and I’m really, really sorry. I know I suck, like  _ really _ suck at interacting with people. It’s always been a problem. I don’t know if I've ever outright said this but our emails are really important to me, it’s nice to be able to know that there’s someone out there who knows how I feel. I’d never forgive myself if I fucked this up. Effed this up. I don’t even know if you cuss. There’s so much about you that I don’t know. 

So, I might have given you the wrong idea with this subject line. I have to admit that I don’t TECHNICALLY know whether Reese’s are better than sex, but they’re pretty freakin good. I’m guessing that they’re better then hetero sex. Non-hetero sex, though? I imagine it may be a little better than Reese’s. I̶s̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶b̶a̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶t̶a̶l̶k̶ ̶a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶b̶l̶u̶s̶h̶i̶n̶g̶?̶ ̶

Anyway, speaking of Reese’s, thank you so much for the photo. That was exactly what I had in mind. Instead of actually eating one, I just wanted to IMAGINE how salty and chocolaty and awesome it would be to eat one. It’s great, because I really wanted to torture myself, but I didn’t feel like making the effort to Google Reese’s cups myself.

I would raid our own supply of leftover chocolate, but we didn’t even buy halloween candy this year. Mother and I live in an apartment building with a suspicious amount of elderlies? Are we secretly living in a retirement home? 

Love, 

Red 

P.S again, I’m really sorry (do you even want me to keep saying “Love”? I̶s̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶b̶a̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶?̶) 

~X~ 

Keith sat on the dirty old couch in his English class, wearing an orange, yellow, and white Garrison cheerleading uniform, complete with an orange pleated skirt, and regretting his life choices.

Half his hair was twisted in a neat french braid, compliments of Romelle and Allura, and his face was twisted in a scowl. Today was the Wednesday of Spirit Week. The year's most dreaded spirit day. At least, for Keith.

Gender Bender Day.

It wasn’t that Keith had a problem with Gender Bender itself. He just didn’t like dressing up. But the soccer guys had decided that everyone on the team would be dressing like cheerleaders, and Keith figured it would look suspicious if he didn't do it. 

He found it funny that it was always the straightest guys who went all out for Gender Bender. Maybe they were secure enough in their masculinity not to be worried about getting called gay. Which was stupid. Being secure in one's masculinity wasn’t the same thing as being straight, anyway. 

Whatever.

Regardless of masculinity, that was how Keith had wound up squished between Hunk and Rolo Beezer on a nasty-ass couch that smelled like beer and seemed like people had sex and rubbed their fluids all over it.

Allura hadn’t shown up yet. Suspiciously, Lance hadn’t either.

Keith pushed the thought out of his head. Between the play and all of her committees, Allura was always late. All the teachers loved Allura, though, as Romelle often complained, so she never got a late pass. Her uncle being the principle might’ve factored into that as well. 

Someone wolf-whistled abruptly. “Whoo, lookin’ hot, Lightning McClain!”

Lance had appeared in the door, wearing his cheerleading outfit. But, of course, he’d gone above and beyond- the straightest of the straights always did. He was armed with huge, orange, fluffy pom-poms, and had donned bold black eyeliner, aggressively thick mascara, and a peachy-coloured lip gloss which went oddly well with the obnoxious Garrison cheerleading outfits.

He actually did look . . . sort of hot. In a weird way. 

Keith shoved the thought aside immediately, and firmly told himself he was imagining Lance’s eyes resting on him a moment longer than anyone else. 

_ Imagining _ it.

“Late slip, Mr. McClain,” the teacher said drily.

Maybe it was just Romelle getting to him, but Keith thought it wasn’t fair that Lance got called out on being late when Allura never did, and surely wouldn’t.

Lance stretched his arms up  against the frame of the doorway like he was hanging from monkey bars. Since he was so tall and lanky, the amount of skin on display was . . . actually pretty obscene.

Keith felt his cheeks grow hot and looked away abruptly.

Then he kicked himself mentally. That was way more suspicious than if he’d stared straight up Lance’s fucking skirt! 

God. Okay, literally everyone else was watching Lance, laughing and hooting. Keith would too- it wasn’t a big deal. Nobody needed to know that he was unironically staring at Lance?

Fuck it.

He looked back at Lance, who was still swinging from the doorframe, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips as someone started clapping.

Keith looked him up and down, feigning an expression of boredom and pretending he didn’t want to grab Lance by the shoulders, shove him into the wall, and kiss him really hard.

“Any day now, Mr. McClain,” drawled the teacher, not looking up from his work.

Lance swung down gracefully, winked- not at Keith, obviously not at Keith, he was imagining it- and sauntered down to the office to grab his late slip.

As Keith watched him go, cheeks still a little pink, he reflected that there was definitely something nice about long, slim soccer legs, and all that tanned brown skin, coming out of a cheerleader’s uniform.

~X~ 

Keith couldn’t decide which was worse. 

The fact he was now standing in the gymnasium, right before lunch, at the student council’s photo booth, still wearing nothing more than that skimpy cheerleader’s costume alongside the rest of his soccer team, or that he still couldn't deny the fact that Lance definitely didn’t look unattractive in it. 

Keith shifted around uncomfortably as he waited for Shay, the student council’s vice president, to take a picture of them and get it over with. Just the thought that that photo would likely end up in the school’s yearbook made him groan. 

“This is stupid, I hate this,” Keith muttered, more to himself than anyone in particular as he folded his arms over his chest. He was still wearing his iconic fingerless gloves, of course, which he adored more than life itself.

“Why?” Lance questioned.  _ Of course he heard me.  _ “You look great.”

The observation made Keith’s face flush pink, because he certainly didn’t  _ feel _ great and he also was still trying to get over Lance. Not that his feelings were anything more than a measly, unrequited crush to begin with. 

“Uh, thanks?” Keith muttered, trying to hide his face as he shifted around uncomfortably, waiting for the last few members of the soccer team to trickle in. 

If any of his teammates knew his sexuality, they definitely wouldn’t be prancing around the photo booth that the student council had set up for Gender Bender Day. Instead they’d probably be yelling slurs at him as they tried to cover their junk. Keith didn’t really like to think about what would happen if Lotor were to leak his emails. 

When Shay announced that her camera was finally ready, the whole team was bunched tightly together, trying to squeeze the twelve of them onto the benches behind the backdrop; a greenscreen, so they photoshop alternate backgrounds after the picture was developed. 

Keith stood beside Lance in the back row, practically hiding behind him. As if they could even see him over the height of his taller teammates. It wasn’t that Keith was short- he was average height- but slouching behind Lance didn’t help his visibility in Shay’s photograph. 

Good. 

“Say cheese!” Shay’s cheery voice sang.

Their replies echoed through the gymnasium as Shay’s camera clicked and flashed with each picture taken. There were about five or six. Keith had counted. 

The moment Shay finished both thanking them for their participation and reinforcing Thursday's theme back into their brains, Keith was bolting out the doors, rushing back to his duffle bag in the locker room. 

He didn’t want to spend another minute in this attire, let alone the rest of the day. 

The uniform may be made of a nice material, but he still didn’t like it. 

Keith felt relieved as stripped out the cheerleader’s uniform and into his regular clothes, an old pair of ripped jeans and a hoodie. At least he’d gotten a participation mark for his team before changing. 

He stuffed everything back into his duffel before heading to lunch. 

Keith noticed that he was getting weird looks as he walked into the caf, being one of the only people not in costume. 

At least he hadn’t taken out the french braid.

“What are you wearing?” Allura asked, gesturing to Keith's clothes as he flopped down in the seat next to her that wasn’t occupied by Romelle.

Keith shrugged. “Clothes?”

Allura rolled her eyes. “I meant, why aren’t you wearing a costume anymore?” 

Keith laughed. A forced, strained laugh. Practically everyone in the school was sporting a costume of sorts: Allura was wearing a football jersey and had painted two black stripes across her cheeks, as did Romelle. 

He tossed his bag to the foot of his chair and slid onto his seat. “I don’t know,” he grumbled, pulling out contents from his duffel bag. “I just changed out of it, okay?”

“You literally only wore it for first block?” Romelle asked incredulously, speaking clearly to him for the first time since the incident on Monday. Allura was still yet to go on her date with Lance, who surprisingly still hadn’t given the group any further details, or even clues of where he’d be taking her. A small part of Keith hoped it wasn’t to Alsby Park where they’d gone stargazing. As if that night could’ve been anything more than platonic to Lance. 

Keith crossed his legs and stretched them out onto the next seat. Only Allura and Romelle would be eating lunch with him today. Hunk had volunteered to help Shay tally the participation results from each spirit day challenge, Pidge had been dragged to help her brother with his robotics project, though Keith suspected she was secretly enjoying it, despite her complaints (he knew she was only complaining because it was Matt, not because it was robotics), and Keith hadn’t seen Lance since he’d raced out of the photoshoot, just before lunch.

The three of them were silent for a while, no one having anything remotely plausible to say after Romelle’s commentary. There were a lot of different types of silence, Keith had learned, but he wasn’t so sure about this one. It was in that stage between awkward and comfortable, kind of like an acquaintance you’d like to get to know better.  _ Or a crush _ , a tiny voice in his head whispered. 

~X~

Although he’d already felt self-conscious wearing the revealing uniform, he felt even more out of place being the only one without a get-up. 

Keith threw his hood over his head as he sunk lower into his chair, wanting to vanish under the cotton fabric and escape the rest of the week. 

Hell, he’d skip the rest of the school year if he could. 

Lotor’s blackmail was really eating him up inside and if he didn’t hurry with a way to break up Lance and Allura, he knew he’d probably have to cut off all contact with Blue and or live in fear with the constant threat of leaked emails being held over his head. 

Keith fiddled with the hems of his sweatshirt sleeves, hoping that it wouldn’t have to come to that point. 


	6. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! i hope you're doing good, anyways here's a new update, i don't have an estimate when the next chapter will be out but know that it is in progress!  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated, so is feedback- be sure to follow my friend who helped write this story @hufflepuffingdemigod  
> i hope you enjoy the update!

The coach’s whistle shrilled through the night sky. “Foul!” he screeched as Rax loosened his grip on Rolo’s shirt and stepped aside. 

They were playing a game of scrimmage to practice technique before their big game against the Olkari next weekend, but it seemed as if the team was more interested in sparring with one another than focusing on their teamwork and cooperation skills. 

While Rolo was setting up his throw-in, Keith took it as an opportunity to catch his breath. He leaned his hands against his knees and took in big gulps of the cool November air, trying to quench the burning that resided in his throat. 

Besides a small set of drills and running a couple laps for a warm-up, they’d been doing this all practice, with minimal rests. Two, to be exact. 

The whistle blew again and the game shot back into action. Keith darted across the field, trying to stay open for his teammates to pass. “Open!” he called, dodging Ryan Kinkade’s attempt to block him from Rolo’s range. 

Keith was able to snatch the ball away from Ryan in the nick of time, and began dashing down the field, weaving out of his opponents’ way to their goalposts. 

The closer he got to the net, the more challengers he gained. “Keith!” a voice called “Over here!” He looked a little to the left and noticed Lance standing in a surprisingly clear position. He was quite far from the net, but Keith reluctantly kicked the ball towards him anyway. He didn’t want to relinquish his control on the ball, but if he had to choose one person on the team to entrust it to, it would probably be Lance. Because he was a good player. Not because he liked him. He didn’t. He definitely  _ didn’t _ . 

Besides, he knew that, despite wishing it were otherwise, if he kept it any longer, the ball wouldn’t be in his team’s possession. 

Huh. That was a vast improvement from his old mentality- to do everything by himself, not trust anybody to succeed when he couldn’t, and keep forging on even when he would definitely fail.

Lance leaped forward, sprinting to get the ball before an opposer could. Keith watched as Lance drew his leg backward before hitting the ball with such a strong force that it was sent barreling upwards. The ball was just passing its peak when the net was nearing. The anticipation of both teams was tangible; both hoping for different outcomes as the soccer ball barely made it between the posts. 

The air was filled with various grunts, some of frustration, and others of excitement for their team’s victory, with Lance’s winning goal. 

Keith sighed. He was glad practice was finally over. He’d spent too much of the day being paranoid for no good reason and it was all self-inflicted, Lotor wasn't even around, he’d been on edge for nothing. 

“Keith! Wait up!” Lance called, jogging towards him, still panting heavily. 

Right. He had to give Lance a ride home tonight. Shit. 

“Yeah?” he replied, turning around to let him catch up. 

“We do make a good team,” Lance said, smiling. 

“What?” 

Lance frowned a little. “Out on the field? During the scrimmage match?” he said, gesturing towards the soccer field. 

“Oh.” Keith smiled, scratching his head distractedly and trying not to ruin the braid he had kept in his hair from earlier that day. The school day had officially ended over an hour ago, and most people had stripped out their costumes and makeup long before that, Lance included. 

“Still need a ride home, right?” Keith asked as they started walking towards the bench to retrieve their water bottles.

“Yeah,” the taller boy confirmed, holding open the door for Keith as they re-entered the school building, making their way to the locker room. “That’d be nice.” 

When they arrived at the locker room, everything fell back into its normal patterns: Keith’s teammates discussing all the things he didn’t want to hear about, Lance chatting with the other boys, and Keith scrambling to get out as soon as possible. Keith sometimes wondered if any of them noticed his hurried behavior, or if they were too busy talking about how badly they wanted to get laid to even care. 

After changing out of his jersey, he walked over to the bathroom mirror and stared at his reflection. His face was still red and hot, as it always was after practice, his hair was disheveled, and his clothes were ruffled from being pulled in and out of his backpack all day. 

Keith cranked the sink on only for frigid water to squirt out. He didn’t care. He splashed it over his face, hoping that would cool him down, before tossing his bag over his shoulder and lingering by the door. He desperately wished Lance would hurry up. 

But of course, he didn’t. So Keith just stood there, awkwardly leaning against the wall as he stared at the floor. Out of all the places a closeted gay guy like himself could be, he disliked the locker room the most. 

“Do you have to take so long in there?” Keith questioned in annoyance when Lance had  _ finally  _ gotten fully dressed and finished his seemingly endless socialization. 

Lance frowned as he brushed his hair out of his face. “I didn’t take that long- oh, shit, do you have somewhere to be tonight?”

“No, it’s just-” Keith cut himself off. “Never mind.”  _ It’s just that I’m a closeted gay guy and none of you know or else you’d never allow me within a 10-foot radius of you while blabbered about hot girls in your boxers.  _

Lance gave him a funny look. “Hey, man, are you alright? You’ve been acting super weird lately; first that practice where you were all spaced out, and now with, uh,  _ this,  _ and the other day when-” 

“I’m fine,” Keith growled, stepping out of the school and nearly letting the door slam in Lance’s face, cutting off his recital of all the ways Keith was weird. There was no way he was going to tell him what was really up. No way he’d be telling Lance that, up until Halloween, Keith had really thought Lance was the closeted bisexual boy he was he was lowkey flirting with over Gmail. No way. 

~X~ 

“You’re taking me home on your motorcycle?” Lance shrieked as Keith swung his legs over the leather seat, heaving out a sigh at Lance’s outburst. 

“How else would I take you home?” Keith grunted, turning his head to stare incredulously at the other boy. 

Lance's face became flushed “I- I-  _ I don’t know! _ Like  _ last _ time!” he cried, beginning to pace back and forth.  _ Don’t call him adorable. Don’t call him adorable.  _

“I don’t have the car today, my mom does,” Keith explained, trying to ignore Lance's reddening face and the little chocolate brown curls that somehow managed to perfectly frame it.  _ Stop it.  _

His face was so red it looked like he was about to explode, but, to Keith's surprise, Lance plopped himself down on the back of the seat without further protest. Keith had to forcibly remind himself that Lance’s arms were only wrapped around his waist for one reason: safety. And nothing more. 

“Don’t kill me.” Lance’s voice was muffled as he buried his face into Keith’s shoulder. Keith scoffed as he turned on the ignition, allowing the motorcycle’s engine to roar to life. 

Although Keith was never usually one for the cold, there was always something about driving around, the breeze blowing through his hair, that made him appreciate a little chill. He, if he dared to say it, for fear of jinxing himself, felt relaxed for the first time in the past week. There were no locker rooms and their conversations so dangerously close to entering homophobic territory, no Lotor and his blackmailing demands or complaints about Allura and- 

Fuck. The date was this weekend. 

Keith’s trail of thought nearly distracted him from the road, causing him to slam his foot into the brakes as he just narrowly managed to stop himself from speeding through a red light at an empty intersection. 

“Keith!” Lance screamed, his grip around Keith’s waist becoming so tight it was nearly suffocating. “What the hell!” he yelled, after taking a hot second to recover from his initial shock. 

All Keith could utter back in reply was “S-sorry,” while trying to overcome his own wave of astonishment. Had he really gotten so distraught about Lance that he’d nearly crashed his motorcycle again? 

He pulled his hand away from the handlebar, running his palm against his cheek, soft skin tracing the ragged remains from the scar he’d acquired a little over a year ago while first learning to drive. 

“‘S’okay,” Lance murmured, his clutch around Keith not showing any signs of loosening until Keith prodded, “L-Lance, can you maybe let go a little bit?”

Lance reluctantly limbered away from Keith before the streetlights changed to green.

Neither of them said anything for the rest of the drive home. Whether it was because of the roaring engine and gusting winds, or because the two were both lost in their own thoughts, overthinking their actions from earlier that day, no words were exchanged between them until they turned down Lance’s street, with Keith driving at an absurdly slow pace, mind whirring frantically, attempting, with no success, to recall which house was Lance’s. 

He’d only been to the other boy’s house a couple times, mostly just to drop him off, and the few times the group chose to meet up at his place. 

“Thirty-four,” Lance said. 

Keith nodded and the motorcycle came to a halt in the driveway of Lance’s home. It was a red-brick bungalow with a well-kept garden; the front yard had today’s accumulation of multi-coloured leaves scattered across the grass, and the family’s white SUV was parked neatly in front of the garage. Lance’s hand-me-down pickup truck was abandoned by the curb. 

“You want me to walk you in?” Keith said, cringing at his own suggestion.  _ What are you doing? _ he thought, chiding himself. 

Lance only chuckled at the question. “Sure.” Lance then scurried off the back of the motorcycle, untangling Keith from his grasp in a couple of seconds. Keith tried to convince himself he didn’t like Lance's toned arms wrapped around him in the first place, but he wound up unsuccessful. 

Before they’d even reached the front porch, the door burst open. 

“Leandro!” Mrs. McClain exclaimed upon the sight of her son. 

“Hi, Mamà!” Lance smiled, scratching the back of his neck as his face flushed again, standing on the doorstep. 

Mrs. McClain peered behind her son. “Keith?” she questioned. “Is that you?” He hadn’t even noticed he was hiding. 

Keith waved awkwardly at Lance’s mother. “Hi, Mrs. McClain, how are you?” 

Mrs. McClain smiled at him, dusting her hands on her apron. “I’m good. It’s been so long since I've seen you!” she said. “Would you like to stay for dinner? And, please, call me Rosa instead.” 

Keith barely had time to answer before he was enveloped in an embrace. Man, the McClains sure were touchy. “If that’s okay,” he said, giving Lance an unsure expression. 

Both boys had noticed that Mrs. McClain had taken a liking towards Keith, which shocked him a little. Lance and Keith seemed to be total opposites. A social butterfly and a sort of lone wolf. A soccer-star-midfielder and an impulsive forward. The main character in the musical and villager B.  _ An inconvertibly heterosexual straight boy and a very, very closeted gay guy.  _ But, whatever the reason, Mrs. McClain liked Keith. 

“Of course it is!” the petite woman exclaimed, backing away from Keith and motioning them to enter the house, only to scold her son as he stood in the entrance hall with his shoes still on. 

_ “Zapatos afuera. Ahora,” _ she said, her voice drilling into that motherly, threatening octave. 

Lance sighed, pulling off his multi-colored sneakers.  _ “Si, Mamà.” _

“Come to the table, dinner is almost ready.” Rosa smiled before vanishing down a narrow corridor. 

Keith looked around the McClain’s mudroom. They had a small closet to the left of the door. To the right was a small vanity table with keys and other various items littering the surface. Above the table was a large mirror, and beside it were lines of family photographs; some were school portraits, others were family vacations, and someone’s wedding. It almost didn’t seem fair that the walls of Lance’s home were strewn with photographs while the ones at Keith’s remained bare. 

“Hey,” Lance said gently, snapping Keith out of his envious trance. “Leave your bag on the bench.” 

After softly setting his bag down, Lance led him through the house, with the wonderful scents from the kitchen only growing stronger the closer they got. 

“Sit, Mijos,” Rosa told them, pointing towards the large wooden table, which was squished between the kitchen counters and the wall. 

_ “¿Va a comer con nosotros?” _ said an elderly woman with a thick Spanish accent, an inquiring tone to her sharp voice. She bore an uncanny rese mblance to Rosa, and could be none other than her mother. 

“Yes,” Lance replied, pulling out chairs for them to sit. “Abuela, this is Keith, he goes to the Garrison. We do soccer and drama together.” 

The old woman scowled at Keith before replying with:  _ “Oh sí, el del pelo,”  _ while untying her apron. 

_ “Mamà!” _ Rosa snapped, carrying over a tray of what looked like tamales.  _ “Se buena.”  _

Lance giggled a little before translating to Keith: “She called you ‘the one with  _ the _ hair’.” Keith rolled his eyes inconspicuously- he didn’t want to offend Abuela or Rosa. Anyway, that wouldn’t be the first McClain to define him by his hair. Then he realized that meant Lance must have mentioned him enough that Abuela would know him as “the one with  _ the _ hair.”

_ “Ve a buscar a tu marido, tengo hambre,” _ Abuela snapped, picking up the tray and serving them both generous portions of tamales, though Keith still ended up with more. 

He looked over at Lance with uncertainty as Rosa left the kitchen, calling out for Lance’s father. 

Without any words, Lance was able to interpret Keith’s subtle side glance. “You’re giving him too much,  Abuela.” 

“He is skinny,” she replied, unbothered, not giving her grandson so much as a glance as she moved along to fill up the rest of the plates. 

“Abuela, we’re  _ all  _ skinny in this house, and of course he’s skinny, he’s Keith, and besides he really is more wiry, he’s strong and-” Lance’s rambling was interrupted by his parents joining them at the table. 

“How was soccer, boys?” Mr. McClain asked. Keith wasn’t sure who he wanted to answer the question. Sure, he had addressed both of them, but Keith had never met Lance’s father before. Lance said his work kept him very busy. So he looked to Lance to talk. 

He gave Keith a small nod before starting, “Oh soccer was great, Papá, we played scrimmage today to practice for next weekend. Oh! Keith and I were on the same team and we got the best goal and . . .” Lance trailed on, explaining the evening's events in explicit detail while Keith stopped listening. He couldn’t quite place how he felt here, sitting at the dining room table, seemingly out of place.  _ Again.  _

It was strange really; he felt jealous of the other boy’s family and he hated to admit that. Lance’s mom was always around, she was super sweet and caring and affectionate. Lance’s dad was smart and enjoyed listening to his son talk about his passions. Lance’s Abuela was super intense, but you knew it was only for your best interest. And Keith was jealous, jealous of Lance's perfect family because it was everything he didn’t have. 

Keith didn’t have much family to begin with, just his mother, father, and his cousin, Shiro, who had moved to America from Japan as an exchange student. Eight-year-old Keith liked to think his life was good, because it was. Until the accident. He could still hear his mother’s strangled sob from the day they’d gotten that dreaded phone call. 

After that, Shiro and his boyfriend, Adam, came over to help a lot. There were some times where they’d spent the night. They figured that after a while that Krolia would pass out of the grievance stage, and she’d get better. But she didn’t. 

It got to the point where she wouldn’t even leave her bed and Keith would go to school hungry. Soon an arrangement was made; Krolia would go to rehab, therapy, and whatever else she needed, and, until then, Shiro and Adam would watch over Keith. 

If Keith was being honest, he was pretty sure his temper was the reason that they hadn’t had any kids of their own after he’d moved out. 

“And what about you Keith? How was your day?”

He nearly jumped out of his seat at being addressed, his train of thought coming to a sudden halt. 

“Uh …” he stuttered, looking up to find every McClain staring him down, a series of blue eyes piercing into his own brown ones.“I-I- I’m sorry, I gotta go,” he blurted out, abruptly getting up from his chair, muttering “Thanks,” to Rosa, and then bolting out of the kitchen. 

He shoved his feet into his untied shoes, grabbed his duffel bag, and raced down to his motorcycle. 

He’d have to apologize for his behaviour later, but now he couldn't care less. He couldn’t have spent another moment in their house without screaming or crying or some variation of the two. 

He had to get out of there. 

~X~

Keith didn’t answer his phone on the first call. Or the second. Or the third, fourth, or fifth. The only sound on the other end of the phone was the dial tone and Keith’s raspy monotone voice reciting in the answering machine. 

Lance turned off his phone, tossing it onto the table with a little more force than intended. “He’s not answering,” Lance grumbled, eyebrows upturned and arms crossed. 

“Okay,” Rosa said with an exasperated sigh. Lance cocked his head at his mother, waiting for her to continue. “Go check on him, take your truck.” 

“You mean I’m not-” 

“Leandro, you are still grounded, this is an exception, take it before I revoke it,” she interrupted, sliding his keys across the counter to land in her son’s palm. 

He held the keys tightly in his grasp, taken aback that she’d even offered this herself. Usually, when he- or any of his siblings were grounded, they were  _ grounded  _ and there were no exceptions. 

Lance stared at his mother hesitantly as he held the keychain, which had a little lego dude dangling beside the truck’s key. “What are you doing?” Rosa asked, shaking her head so fast that her brunette curls bounced behind her back. “Go see him.” 

He nodded as he made his way to the mudroom, stuffing his feet into the shoes he didn’t bother to unlace. He looked in the mirror briefly, adjusting his hair and fiddling with the ruffles on his sweater as he threw his jacket on overtop. 

“Be home before eight!” his mother yelled from the kitchen followed by the echo of dinner dishes clanking together. “Si, Mamà,” he called before slipping out their front door. 

The moment he plopped into the cushioned seat of his truck, he let out a deep sigh. What was up with Keith lately? It wasn’t like him to hesitate. It wasn’t like him to pull away from conversations the way he did at the supper table, it wasn’t like him to act like this. Not that he paid an obsessive amount of attention to Keith’s actions. He didn’t. He  _ definitely  _ didn’t. 

Lance clutched his phone, fingers pressing into the case that protected the small device, tightly clenched in his hands. Why would Keith bother to answer him? Would Keith even want him to give him a check-up? For all Lance knew, Keith could still think of him as an obnoxious, annoying, self-centered friend he had to put up with day after day. What was the point? 

There  _ wasn’t  _ a point, Lance tried to tell himself, but he still found himself dialing the number Keith had hesitantly exchanged with him in eighth grade so he could be added to a group chat that had long since been abandoned. 

Lance held his breath as the beck and call of the dial tone echoed throughout his truck, a daunting silence falling in between each ring until a weary, raspy voice answered. 

“What do you want, Lance?” 

~X~ 

Keith wasn’t sure how he found himself here. He hated big social events, especially  _ school _ social events, and yet here he was, stumbling his way through the crowded bleachers of the Garrison’s homecoming game. Trying to make it to where his friends sat while precariously carrying a steaming cup of coffee in his cold hands, which still sported the fingerless gloves he couldn’t seem to lose- even when little snowflakes scattered the school grounds. 

It was loud from the cries of encouragement of the cheerleaders, the wolf whistles from various students, the faint sounds of the marching band warming up and the feedback from the speakers and microphone- Keith felt like his ears were ringing. If only he’d thought ahead and brought his headphones to tune it all out. 

His eyes wavered, glancing around nervously as he scanned the bleachers for his friends. Keith pulled out his phone, only to find that they’d left him no clue on where they’d be sitting, only sparing to mention that Lance and Allura would be arriving late because of their date.  _ Date. _

He hated how he felt about it, all jealous and angry. Even if his pathetic, unrequited crush for Lance still hadn’t simmered away, he could at least  _ pretend _ to be happy for them. They were his friends, after all. But what did he do instead? He got angry. He got irritated and he locked himself away. He could’ve at least  _ tried  _ to hear Lance out- to listen to his worries after Keith practically stormed out of his house. But of course he’d lost his temper and screamed at the poor guy over the phone. 

Keith began to make his way up the bleachers’ staircase, his fingers curled tightly around the paper coffee cup until he was shoved forwards, tripping over his feet and spilling his coffee. He winced as the hot liquid seeped through his parka. “Sorry about that,” someone said from over his shoulder. “Here, let me help you up.” 

Keith’s vision lingered on his coat before he glanced at the tanned hand outstretched for him to take, only to realize that it was Lotor who the hand belonged to. 

He wrinkled his nose, pulling back and scrambling up on his own. Despite his best efforts to avoid the boy for the rest of the school week, after the confrontation in the hallway, he supposed it was inevitable that he’d eventually run into him again. “Well, good evening to you, too,” Lotor scoffed, stuffing his hands back into the pockets of his designer jacket. “You’re welcome . . . A thank you wouldn’t be out of order.”

Keith didn’t reply, only rolling his eyes as he brushed dust off the front of his coat. 

“Is there something you want from me?” Keith asked when he noticed that Lotor was staring pointedly at him. 

Lotor raised his eyebrows. “Besides a thank you? Well-” 

“Because if it’s about  _ them- _ ” Keith started, but Lotor interrupted him.

_ “Of course it’s about them,” _ he hissed. Then he pulled back, taking a deep breath and collecting himself before trying again. “Would you mind if I sat with you?” Lotor barely even gave Keith enough time to object before he added, “I’m not any happier about this than you are.”

Keith frowned. As much as he hated to admit it, Lotor was right: he wasn’t happy about this. And Lotor was the only person who knew. What kind of person was Keith to let his  _ blackmailer _ know more about him than his actual  _ friends? _

“Whatever,” Keith murmured, his voice nearly drowned out by the cheers of students in the bleachers, as he began making his way further up the stairs. He was sulking, he admitted it. And not only about the  _ date,  _ now, but about the fact that Lotor would be joining them too.  _ What a catastrophe.  _

Along the very top row sat Pidge, Hunk, and Romelle, all of them bustled out in full winter gear such as hats, gloves, and earmuffs. They’d even spread a giant, fluffy blanket out over themselves. 

“Hey, Keith,” Pidge chirped, her round wire-rimmed glasses fogging up as she spoke. Then she glowered, the glasses flashing in the bright lights. “Lotor,” she snarled, her tone changing drastically. 

Keith subtly glanced over at the boy who was towering behind him, only to find no discernable reaction. If he was being particularly honest, he had no idea how this night was going to go as he took his seat, squashed in between Romelle and Lotor, who were shooting each other dirty glances when they thought he wasn’t looking. 

All he knew was that it was going to be a  _ long _ night.

~X~

The game had nearly started when Lance and Allura waltzed their way up the stadium stairs, hands interlaced and grinning widely as they marched up to the top row. 

“Heya, Lance,” Hunk said, smiling brightly upon their arrival. 

“So!” Romelle chirped eagerly. “How was it?”

“It was good. We just went out for dinner at a small restaurant and walked here,” Lance answered before casting Allura a worried glance and whispering, “It  _ was  _ good, right?” 

Allura nodded, her grin seeming to widen, if that was even possible, as she tightly squeezed Lance’s hand. 

“Can we squish by you guys to get a seat?” Lance asked, letting his and Allura’s hands fall back to their sides. 

Hunk, Pidge, and Romelle nodded, respectively tucking their feet out of the way, but Keith was frozen in place. The only thing that caught his attention was Lotor disguising his distorted chuckle as a cough when he didn’t move out of their way. 

He glanced up at them briefly before his thought slipped out of his mouth. “Uh, you and Lance can sit here,” he said suddenly. “Lotor and I can shuffle down.” 

“Oh, are you sure?” Allura asked while Lance stared down at his shoes- they looked like any other pair of shoes except for the three pink, purple, and blue beads on the ends of the laces. 

Keith shook his head. “Yeah, totally,” he said, elbowing Lotor in the chest to shove him sideways, so Lance and Allura had room to sit. It wasn’t until they were situated that Keith felt the jab returned- Lotor’s elbow slamming into his ribs,  _ hard _ . There wasn’t much he could do, besides send a menacing glare towards him, without causing a scene. 

“Are you cold?” Allura laughed from two seats over, grinning at the shivering, bundled up Romelle.

“Yes,” she replied, teeth chattering. “Blankets are warm, but the weather is colder.” 

Keith opened his mouth to say something to Lance, but remembered their fight and closed it again. 

_ “What do you want, Lance?” Keith grumbled into the phone, his voice raspy and his eyes still weary.  _

_ Lance gulped before pushing out his question. “Um, are you okay? You kinda just stormed out of my house earlier.” _

_ Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m perfectly fine,” he retorted, his voice cracking at just the right moment to show he wasn’t.  _

_ “Dude, buddy, it’s okay if you’re not- you know, I’m glad you finally answered my call. I’m actually in my truck right now- my mom ungrounded me- so if you wanna talk I could come see you.”  _

_ That was precisely the last thing Keith needed- to see Lance. As if being surrounded by his family hadn’t caused whatever awful feeling had suddenly plagued Keith. As if, recently, Lance wasn’t accidentally the main source of Keith’s problems.  _

_ “Just go away, Lance. I don’t want to talk to you right now,” he scoffed, sighing as he ground his words out too quickly, too aggressively.  _

_ There was a pause before the other boy spoke again. “Okay . . .” he said with hesitance. “But . . . if you ever do want to talk, we can. We’re friends, right?” _

_ Friends. The exact thing Keith wished they were more than. “Just leave me alone, Lance!” he snapped. “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, later, or ever, okay? Especially not you! I just want to be by myself!” he cried before actually acknowledging the words that came out of his mouth. But it was too late. He’d said what he said. _

_ Lance’s end of the phone was so quiet that if Keith hadn't been staring at the screen that currently said he was on call, he would’ve thought Lance had hung up on him.  _

_ “Lance?” Keith started, frustrated. Why couldn’t he ever just say what he meant? “Lance, I didn’t-” _

_ A heavy breath could be heard through the speaker after a couple of seconds. “It’s good to know how you feel, then,” Lance spat, cutting across whatever Keith had been about to say, his voice a bitter mix of hurt and anger.  _

_ “No- Lance, I-” Keith was interrupted by the ringing of an ended call. Goddammit. God-fucking-dammit.  _

“Uh, hey,” Keith said awkwardly, after overthinking his words for a minute or so. 

“Hey,” Lance muttered in monotone, not bothering to glance up from the beads on his shoelaces, or the popcorn remnants from previous games that littered the aisles’ floor. 

“How was your date with Allura?” Keith mumbled, wishing he hadn’t spilled his coffee earlier, so he could’ve chugged it all now. Lotor peaked an eyebrow in curiosity and tried to listen in, knowing he had two options: eavesdrop now or pester it out of Keith later. 

“It was good, I guess.” Lance shrugged, still avoiding Keith’s gaze as it lingered on the stray football players finishing their warm-up before the national anthem could play, enchanting the audience with Florona Baku’s singing. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but Lance’s lack of enthusiasm saddened him; partially because it was his fault for building a wall between them, and partially because, well, he was pretty certain that Lance was totally head over heels for Allura since the moment she walked into Garrison late last spring. And he should be happy about their date. 

Keith just nodded, not sure how to engage further with his discouraged friend, but his thinking was interrupted when a tanned arm wrapped around his shoulders. He practically jumped up out of his skin before he heard the smooth voice whisper, “Interrogating, now, are we? That’s a little low, even for you.” 

Keith let out an angry huff. “That’s a load of bullshit coming from you,” he retorted, pulling Lotor’s arm off his shoulders. 

Lotor shrugged. “Might be, might not be,” he rambled, a small, malevolent grin creeping across his face. “But it wasn’t my idea to try to break them up, now was it?” 

Keith rolled his eyes, wanting to punch the smirk off the asshole’s pointy face. “I never said we were going to go through with it,” he hissed, hoping that Romelle had dragged Lance into some sort of conversation- anything to prevent him from overhearing  _ this _ conversation. Or else their friendship truly wouldn’t be salvageable. 

“But you did suggest it,” Lotor said. “You sounded pretty persistent about it, too, if I recall correctly.” He chuckled lowly to himself. 

“Just shut it, okay?” Keith whisper-yelled, his tolerance running dangerously low. “If you want to diss me so bad, can we at least postpone it ‘till after the goddamned game?” 

“Sure thing, Kogane,” Lotor replied snarkily. “Don’t forget to check out the packages, if you know what I mean.” 

~X~ 

FROM: blueataglance@gmail.com 

TO: rushofadrenaline@gmail.com 

**DATE: Nov 6 at 11:45 PM**

SUBJECT: Re: all of the above Red,

Okay, first of all, Oreos absolutely qualify as a food group. Second of all, they’re the ONLY food group that matters. My siblings and I actually made up this place called “the Shoreo” a few years ago one night when we were staying at our aunt’s house. It’s like this place where everything is made of some kind of Oreo, and the river is an Oreo milkshake, and you sit on top of this massive Oreo and float down it. You get to scoop up cups of milkshake whenever you want. It’s kind of like that scene in Willy Wonka, except a lot more peaceful. No children nearly dying, I guess. Who knows what we were thinking. We were probably all just famished and whining about our rumbling tummies. Our aunt was never the greatest cook around. Not like my mom or my grandmother.

Anyway, I forgive you for your ignorance. I know you didn’t realize you were talking to an expert.

—Blue 

FROM: rushofadrenaline@gmail.com 

TO: blueataglance728@gmail.com 

**DATE: Nov 7 at 12:13 AM**

SUBJECT: Re: all of the above Blue,

It’s true, I had no idea I was talking to such an Oreo connoisseur. The Shoreo sounds like a magical place. So, Doctor, how many servings of Oreo products are necessary for a balanced diet?

I’m getting the impression that you have a bit of a sweet tooth.

—Red 

FROM: blueataglance728@gmail.com 

TO: rushofadrenaline@gmail.com 

**DATE: Nov 7 at 12:28 AM**

SUBJECT: Sweet tooth?

I can’t imagine why you’d think that.

All right—I have a sneaking suspicion that you’re not 100% committed to your Oreo diet. The guidelines are really pretty basic. No excuses. Breakfast is obviously an Oreo granola bar or Oreo Pop-Tart. No, they’re not gross. Shut up. They’re amazing. Lunch should be Oreo pizza with an Oreo milkshake and a couple of those Oreo truffles my sister-in-law makes from a Pinterest recipe. Dinner is deep-fried Oreos served on top of Oreo ice cream, and for a drink, it’s Oreos dissolved in milk. No water. Only Oreo milk. Dessert can be Oreos straight up. Sound reasonable? It’s for your health, Red. 

I swear to God, typing this is actually making me hungry. This totally used to happen to me when I was younger. Isn’t it funny the way you fantasize about junk food when you’re a kid? It’s really all-consuming. I guess you have to obsess about something before you know about sex.

I guess it’s like you and your Reese’s- but I guess I also kinda like to imagine you fantasizing about sex. I can’t believe I just wrote that. I can’t believe I’m hitting send. 

—Blue 

~X~ 

He- he _ what _ ?

Keith had to read the email a couple of times, his weary eyes and weary brain still unable to comprehend the last paragraph. 

He aggressively rubbed his eyes before reaching over to his night, the sudden brightness causing him to flinch back and have Kosmo emit a low, tired growl. “Sorry, buddy,” Keith whispered, gently stroking the dog back to sleep as he re-read the email for the fifth time before it could actually make an impact. 

Blue thought about  _ him  _ thinking about sex. 

In all honesty, it wasn’t something Keith thought about much. Well, aside from all the sexual comments that were constantly overheard in the locker room, or rumours about various students being spread throughout the Garrison. But Keith  _ himself? _

He flicked the light back off, lowering himself onto his back to stare up at the ceiling and ponder, listening to the rumble of cars, even this late at night, outside his window. 

_ He likes to imagine me . . . fantasizing about sex.  _

It wasn't a bad thought, Keith reminded himself. The only bad thing about it was how quickly his mind stumbled down a quick trail leading him to Lance. 

“Ugh,” he groaned in frustration, rolling over to lay on his stomach and bury his face under the pillows. But the thought wouldn’t go away. 

He knew it wasn’t right to feel like this- especially since Lance and Allura were going out now- but it couldn’t hurt to indulge in this just once, could it? 

_ No. No. No. Stop it. Shut up!  _ Keith scolded himself, attempting to ward off the thought. There were other, more important things to unbox here: like how the only person he could imagine himself doing it with . . . was Lance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone who was wondering about the spanish translations,  
> Shoes off. Now = zapatos fuera, ahora  
> ¿Está comiendo con nosotros? = is he eating with us?  
> oh sí, el del pelo = oh yes, the one with the hair.  
> Se bueno = be nice  
> ve a buscar a tu marido, tengo hambre = go get your husband, i'm hungry


End file.
